


The Loneliest Girl in the World

by octoberland



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:23:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoberland/pseuds/octoberland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A catastrophe of planetary proportions forces Jane and Darcy to take refuge on Asgard. All well and good for Jane. She has Thor to turn to during these dark times. But what about Darcy? Can the loneliest girl in the world find solace in the arms of a consummate liar? Or will Loki's silver tongue break what's left of her spirit?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I...did not expect to be doing this. I've always enjoyed the Marvel films, and of course, liked Loki. But for some reason as of late Loki has crawled under my skin and stayed there. He wants my attention all the time. Read me. Look at me. Watch me. I blame Tumblr. Which is where I got this idea. This was supposed to just be a drabble based off some prompts I found on Tumblr. I've never written in this universe. I'm not nearly as schooled in it as I'd like to be before writing. But when I sat down tonight the words kept coming. I can't promise they're good. I don't have a beta and I've never written this fandom before. But hopefully someone will find it enjoyable.
> 
> The prompt for this was the word 'lonely'. If people like this I can absolutely continue it. If not, then I'll just move onto another prompt.
> 
> I apologize in advance for any errors. I own squat. No copyright infringement intended. Feedback would be lovely. Thank you for reading.

Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster sat on the green expanse of lawn facing the Eiffel Tower. It was Jane’s birthday and they’d spent the day celebrating by wandering the city, alternating between getting drunk and drinking coffee to counter the alcohol. It was night now, and they were back to alcohol. They sat beneath the Tower lit, bright and shining, against the night sky. People were still milling about, talking and laughing and kissing. Darcy and Jane shared a bottle of cheap champagne while sitting on their sweaters, avoiding the dewy grass beneath. Jane looked wistfully up at the Tower and sighed.

“Stop that,” said Darcy.

“Stop what?” Jane tried to feign innocence.

“Does he even know it’s your birthday?” asked Darcy, after she took another swig from the bottle.

“No.” whispered Jane. She looked back down at her skirt and pretended to pick a piece of lint off it.

“Then stop sitting there pining for him. This isn’t a Jane Austen novel. This is a Jane Fucking Foster extravaganza. Now drink!” she ordered her friend.

Jane smiled and took the bottle from Darcy. “Bottoms up,” she said before taking a big sip.

It had been nearly a year since the Chitauri attack and there’d been no word from Thor other than the assurances from Tony Stark that he was fine and well and would be in touch. She’d given up trying to build a wormhole to find him but had stayed on at the Norway facility at Tony’s behest. It hadn’t hurt that Mr. Stark had made a sizable contribution to fund whatever project she deemed fit. And getting Darcy to stay hadn’t taken much more than a few pouty looks and some fancy cupcakes.

“We’re going to need more alcohol,” said Jane. She tipped the empty bottle upside down. The few remaining drops slid out, illuminated by the lights of the Tower.

“I’ve got us covered,” replied Darcy. She picked up her purse and fished around inside for the flask she’d stashed there earlier. 

She was mid reach when the lights went out.

“The hell…” she whined.

“Huh,” said Jane.

Darcy shifted her attention away from her purse and looked around. It wasn’t just the Tower lights that were out. So far as she could tell, it was the whole city.

She stood, looping the long strap of the purse over her shoulder. She’d hoped that standing would help, that maybe she’d see something she couldn’t while sitting but there was nothing. She'd never seen blackness like this before. She heard people whispering and giggling, saw the flicker of a lighter here and there, could hear someone stumble off to her left and swear loudly in French. In the distance she heard an alarm and then the sound of metal crashing against metal, the unmistakable sound of two cars colliding. 

Darcy looked up at the sky and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

“Jane, honey, get up,” said Darcy, her eyes still trained on the sky. She made a motion with her hand for Jane to get up even though Jane probably couldn’t see it.

“My phone’s not working,” said Jane.

Darcy looked down at her friend but she could barely even make out her shape.

“Get up. Now.” She said, grabbing Jane and pulling her off the ground.

“Darcy! Ow! What the heck?”

When she could feel that Jane was standing next to her, albeit swaying a bit, she grabbed Jane’s head and pointed it at the sky.

“LOOK.” said Darcy.

“Oh. My. God.” said Jane, annunciating every word slowly and carefully.

The lights in the City of Light weren’t the only ones that had gone out. The stars were gone. The light of the moon was gone. Something was very, very wrong.

“That’s not possible,” whispered Jane.

“We need to get out of here,” Darcy grabbed her sweater off the ground, feeling her way in the dark, and then latched onto Jane. They didn’t make it two steps before the sky opened up.

There was a crash of lightning followed by a thunderclap. For a brief moment everything was illuminated. After the darkness they’d been in it nearly blinded them, burning white streaks into their retinas so that they had to close their eyes and rub them. When they opened them again Thor stood before them. She could just make him out by the light of a nearby bush that had caught fire.

“Happy Birthday?” said Darcy quizzically as she looked over at Jane. Jane just shrugged her shoulders and Thor raised his eyebrows.

“We’ve no time for celebrations,” he said, drily. “Come. We must leave this place and quickly,” he said while holding his arms open to them.

“And by leave, you mean hug?” said Darcy, referring to his outstretched arms.

Thor sighed. He reached them in one stride and wrapped his arms around the two girls. “Hold fast,” he instructed.

What happened next reminded Darcy of the time she’d ridden the Turkish Twist at the county fair. The “room” had spun around so quickly that they didn’t need any sort of belt or restraints when the floor dropped out beneath them. Gravity did all the work. They’d doctored the ride up for the nighttime crowd too. There were bright flashing lights and loud music and everyone was screaming and laughing.

This is what that was like except no one was laughing. Screaming, yes, but not laughing. Darcy screamed. She screamed and clawed at Thor as best she could and shut her eyes tight when she realized that what she saw flying past her was galaxies. 

Like the ride at the fair the trip only lasted a few minutes. She felt herself unceremoniously dropped and when she cracked her eyes open she could hardly believe what she saw. Gold. Everywhere gold. And there was Thor in all his ‘I’m a God’ glory, holding Jane to him. They were standing in a great hall. Everything was gilt and outside she could see lush greens and the light of a setting sun. The windows alone must have been at least two stories tall.

There was what she assumed were guards but they looked like something out of a movie: tall, muscular, adorned in golden plated armor head to toe, great massive helmets with horns upon their heads.

“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” she said to no one in particular, wide eyed.

“Kansas?” inquired a voice behind her.

She’d been so awestruck by her surroundings that she hadn’t really been paying attention to her personal space.

She turned.

_Monster_ , she thought, _murderer, traitor_.

Loki stood before her. Trickster God, Mischief Maker. Killer.

She backed up, nearly tripping over herself.

“Guys,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Guys.” She said again, trying to get the attention of Thor and Jane.

“You need not worry.” said Thor.

“Like hell,” replied Darcy.

“I’m afraid your troubles are far greater than that of my brother standing before you.”

“I doubt it,” she mumbled.

“What is it?” asked Jane. “Why did you bring us here?”

“I have grave news for you. For both of you.”

Darcy was still eyeing Loki who looked at her disinterestedly. One might make the mistake of thinking he was bored but she could tell he was waiting for something, could see the eagerness hiding in his eyes, flickering just beneath the facade.

“Lady Darcy, please, I need your attention,” Thor implored.

Darcy turned to him, begrudgingly. 

“What?” she asked.

“There is no easy way to bear such news so I shall just say it.” He paused, making sure he had their attention.

“Your world is no more.”

Neither Jane nor Darcy said anything. They stared at Thor trying to process what he’d just said. 

Jane’s mouth opened and closed but no words came out.

Finally, Darcy spoke. “I don’t believe you,” she said. _No. No, no, no, no_.

It’s true.” He took a stride towards her as though to comfort her but she stepped back and nearly collided with Loki who’d managed to invade her personal space again. She backed away from him too.

“Prove it,” she dared.

Thor lowered his eyes. “Follow me,” he said.

Darcy and Jane followed him, flanked by Loki - which Darcy did not like AT ALL - and a handful of guards. 

Darcy looped her arm around Jane’s. “What’s going on?” she asked her friend.

“I don’t know,” said Jane, but Darcy could see the wheels in her head working, trying to compute what Thor had said. It was impossible. They were just there. Worlds don’t just disappear. But as they walked down the vast hallway Darcy’s heart sank deeper with each step.

They stepped into a darkened room. There was a pool of water in the center, its surface black as the night they’d just come from. They gathered at its edge and waited. The silence felt deafening to Darcy. She had to fight to keep from tapping her foot. Loki stood across from them, watching her. She was about to make a snide comment directed at him when she noticed the water ripple. It moved in tiny waves, the ambient light of the room reflected on its surface, creating shapes and shadows and patterns.

The patterns grew, forming into things she recognized: There was Mars, dusty and red. An old satellite, clunky and worn. Earth’s moon, bright from the glow of the sun. And there, in pieces, was Earth. It was spread out into large chunks, broken. No one could have survived.

“No,” said Jane quietly. She held her hand out as though to touch the image but the water receded and the image faded away.

“I’m gonna be sick,” said Darcy. She held her hand over her mouth and ran from the room.

Loki followed her. He found her bent over, hands on her knees, dry heaving.

“You,” she said when she saw him out of the corner of her eye. “You did this! Didn’t you?!” she wailed. She charged him but quickly found herself caged by Thor’s strong arms. “Let me go!” she screamed, kicking her feet out.

The God of Mischief smirked.

“He did not do this thing.” said Thor. “You have my word.”

“Bullshit.” She said. Tears streaked her face. 

“Who?” croaked Jane, “Who then? Who did this?”

“We don't know,” said Thor, “but we will not rest until we find out.”

“Then how do you know it wasn’t _him_?” said Darcy.

“Because we’ve taken his magic away from him as punishment. He could not have possibly done this.”

Darcy slumped in Thor’s arms.

“Earth was under my protection. I have failed you,” he said. He turned Darcy so that she was facing him. “I cannot recompense what has been taken from you but I swear to you my fealty. So long as you both live I am at your service.”

She could see then, how broken he was, and it hit her. This was real. This was really happening. She was never going home again. Every single person she ever knew, aside from Jane, was dead. Selvig was dead. The Avengers were dead. The sweet young girl who’d made her coffee that morning in the café was dead. The dog she’d petted on the street corner was dead. The children she’d seen playing in the fountain, the tourists at the Louvre, her family; everything was gone. She grabbed Jane’s purse off her shoulder and marched back into the great hall.

There was a great table in the great hall and this is where she dumped out the contents of both their purses. She began to organize the contents side by side. She heard the others enter, their footfalls soft on the shiny floors.

“What are you doing, sweetie?” she heard Jane ask. She stilled when she felt Jane’s hand on her back.

“This is it,” said Darcy, matter of factly. She’d stopped crying and was focused solely on her task. She continued on without even looking at Jane or the others.

“This is all that’s left of humanity. A couple of cell phones, an iPod, my hairbrush, your comb, some stale gum, lip gloss, cheap rum, a notebook and pen, hotel key cards, wallets, and the clothes on our back. That’s it. That’s all we have left. No more Dunkin’ Donuts, no more McDonald’s French fries, no more Christmas or summers at the lake or movies. I guess I don’t have to worry about my student loans,” she said. She laughed bitterly, her arms rising out and then hands slapping back down on her thighs. “There won’t ever be anymore anything again,” she said, staring at all the little things she’d laid out on the table.

“Here,” said Jane. She began to collect the items, divvying them up to each respective purse. “Maybe we should get settled in for the night.” She looked at Thor, imploringly.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Of course,” He motioned to one of the guards.

Within an hour Darcy found herself ensconced in a palatial room fit, in her mind anyway, for a queen. It was a far cry from her dorm room days. As with everything else in this place her room was dripping gold. The walls were gold, her bed sheets were gold, and the furniture had gold detailing. And everything was big too, as though made for giants. Her bed easily could have slept four; the hearth was big enough to cook in, the ceilings cavernous. Under other circumstances she might have relished this, might have pranced around pretending to be a princess. But not tonight. Tonight she fell face first into the bed and spent her time switching between screaming into the pillows and sobbing hysterically.

The next few days were a blur to her. She’d fallen into an almost catatonic state. She’d never been prone to bouts of melancholy but neither had she ever felt such loneliness before. She’d not seen Jane since they arrived. The two of them, Thor and Jane, seemed to have squirreled themselves away in his quarters and forgotten all about her. _How nice_ , she thought. _Jane gets to be the heroine of our little apocalypse, maybe even queen someday. Meanwhile I have to suffer through this alone_.

Attendants came and went, offering her food, taking measurements for clothing, showing her where and how to bathe. Some offered kind words but most were silent, unsure of what to say in the wake of such tragedy. She would nod, utter a weak “Thank you,” and then turn away. She didn’t eat. She bathed only one time in four days, standing dully beneath the small waterfall, letting it cascade over her and wondering if she could perhaps drown in it.

At night she lay awake. When she closed her eyes she saw her Earth shattered like a child’s toy broken underfoot. Sometimes she thought she could hear screams.

She took to sitting on the balcony of her room. The windows slid apart, receding into the wall. She set up a chair and curled a golden knit throw around her shoulders, knees bunched up against her chest.

Asgard was a quiet place at night. The normally golden hues turned silver in the light of its moons. She could see firelight here and there. Sometimes she could hear men quarreling in the way that men do when they don’t really mean it. Sometimes she heard singing and music. Other times she could even hear lovemaking. Not tonight though. Not at this hour. It was late. Well past the midnight hour she was sure. She looked aimlessly out at the city, wondering at all the people therein, wondering what her place in all this could possibly be.

“You do not sleep,” said a voice from the shadows to her left.

“Jesus,” she said, nearly knocking her chair over as she shifted to get up.

“Sit. Please.” Loki motioned towards the abandoned chair.  
“What do you want?” she asked, clutching the throw tighter around her shoulders and eyeing the big wooden door to her chamber.

“I mean you no harm. I wish only to speak with you.”

“Please,” he said again, motioning to the chair.

Darcy did as he said. She was too tired to argue and wasn’t entirely sure if she cared what happened to her anyway.

Loki smiled, a small pleased smile.

He leaned against the balustrade, arms crossed over his chest, dark hair cascading around his face.

“I’ve been watching you,” he said.

Darcy shot him a dirty look.

Loki chuckled. “Well, you are in my realm, and I’m curious.” he said.

“About what?” she asked.

“What does it feel like?” he asked.

_Is he fucking for real right now?_ She thought to herself. She was about to get up and clock him but then she saw the look on his face. There was no malice in it. No mirth. He seemed, genuinely, curious.

“It feels like the end of the world,” she said, laughing at her own joke. 

Her gaze returned to the sleeping city.

“It feels like the time Jackie Carpenter broke up with me under the bleachers and then the very next day I saw him making out with Sally Lindberg. I lost my virginity to that fucker and he didn’t even care. It feels like when my grandmother died and I saw her dead body at the funeral and my heart never left my throat that whole night. It feels like every nightmare I’ve ever had coming at me all at once. It feels like nothing is ever going to be right again. Like I’m a walking National Geographic special on extinction except there won’t be anyone left to remember me.”

Darcy felt her eyes begin to water.

“I feel like the loneliest girl in the world.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, looks like I'm continuing this story. Thank you to everyone that has commented and left kudos, etc. I have a beta now. Her name is LaTessitrice and she writes awesome Loki fics so you should check her out. If there are any errors left in this chapter they are solely my own. The prompt word for this chapter was the word 'lick'. As always, I own squat. No copyright infringement intended. Feedback would be lovely. Hope you enjoy. Thank you for reading.

Darcy watched the flames as they licked and danced their way along the stone of the hearth in her room. She was sitting cross-legged in front of it, the heat so strong she could barely stand it. Wild thoughts flitted through her head and she blamed it on this place with its magic and gods and legends. She wanted to let her hair down, strip herself naked and disappear into the forest with the moon on her back. Instead she contemplated the items she’d placed on the floor before her, the remnants of her old life. She was debating throwing them into the fire, a sort of cleansing or rebirth in her mind, when he stepped out of the shadows.

“Whatever are you doing?” he asked.

“Loki, I’ve had a long day,” she said, exasperated, nearly rolling her eyes.

“I should silence that tongue of yours until you’ve learned some manners.” His tone was ice and venom but she does not heed the warning. Her mind had already turned back to the events of the day.

 

_Knock, knock, knock._

She’d expected to find her assigned attendant when she opened the door that morning but instead Jane was standing there. Her eyes were red, puffy, and she looked smaller somehow. Darcy guessed she hadn’t slept much either. They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment and then rushed into each other’s arms. Jane sobbed openly and it was all Darcy could do not to break down again. 

Early morning light seeped into the halls setting everything aglow. Darcy’s attendant, and a woman she assumed was Jane’s, stood a few paces away in idle chatter.

“I would ask how you are,” said Darcy, “but I think I know the answer,” she said as she pulled away from her friend. Jane laughed a small quiet laugh and smiled weakly.

“I’m sorry,” she started to say but Darcy shushed her.

“It’s fine. I get it. I’d probably want to get lost in my man-meat too if I had any.” Her mind flickered briefly to Loki, to his nightly visits, but she pushed that thought away. 

“Don’t you look spiffy” she said instead, referring to Jane’s dress. Jane was wearing a floor length purple gown that gathered at the waist. Its open neck and long sleeves conveyed elegance and maturity. _Fit for a queen_ , she thought.

“You’ve an audience with the All-Father today,” said one of the attendants, clearly taking a cue from Darcy’s compliment. “I’ve a dress for you too,” she continued. 

The next two hours were spent primping and preening though to Darcy it nearly felt like torture. They’d tried to bathe her but she’d assured them she was perfectly capable of doing that herself. She lost the battle when it came to her hair though. They insisted on brushing it out and sticking it with pins and combs and even some kind of scented powder till it sat on her head like something out of a bridal magazine.

A servant brought them breakfast. She eyed it warily. She’d hardly eaten a thing since arriving, and in fact, hadn’t eaten any Asgardian food at all, opting instead to consume, in tiny portions, the last remaining granola bar that she’d found stuffed in her sweater pocket. Jane, on the other hand, obviously had no compunctions about otherworldly food. She was currently tucking into a large piece of bread smeared with fruit and what looked like honey. Darcy’s stomach rumbled.

“Fuck it,” she said, and picked up the other piece of bread that Jane had prepared for her.

The first taste on her tongue was slightly bitter, almost like rye bread. Then, as she chewed, there was a burst of tartness from the fruit followed by the sweetness of the honey.

“Holy fuckballs," she said, while still chewing. Her attendant eyed her curiously. Darcy was already reaching for another piece before she’d even finished the first.

While they ate breakfast, washing down the lumps of bread with some kind of milk - Darcy didn’t want to know what kind - Jane tried to fill her in on what she could. It wasn’t much seeing as Jane had never actually been here before. She told Darcy about Odin and Frigga, about the Bifrost and the Nine Realms, which was actually stuff Darcy knew already but it was better conversation than the alternative, which was to talk about Earth. 

When they were finished with breakfast the two girls stood in front of the large mirror in Darcy’s quarters.

“Whoa,” said Darcy. The woman who stood before her was nearly unrecognizable.

Darcy’s dress was also floor length but hers was deep blue in color. It contrasted nicely with her fair skin, making her look even paler than usual. Unlike Jane’s dress, Darcy’s had short sleeves and a deep v neck. Certainly not something she would have chosen for herself given her rather ample assets but the beaded choker the attendant had placed around her neck raised the look from trashy to classy. The tiny black beads glimmered in the sun that shone through her window and made her think of a spider web wet with rain. Her hair, she realized now, had been styled in a loose braid turned up on itself, stray tendrils spilling softly around her face. The only hint of anything amiss was, like Jane, her eyes, which were also puffy and red and had dark circles under them. Still, _not bad_ , she thought, for the last two humans alive.

Jane took her hand. “Well then,” she said. “I guess we should go. Don’t want to keep the King waiting.” She looked just as nervous as Darcy felt.

Out in the hall a row of guards waited to escort them. Jane and Darcy walked side by side with three guards in front and three behind them. She wasn’t entirely sure if they were guests or prisoners at this point but she kept her mouth shut and just observed her surroundings. Somewhere, she heard what sounded like fighting, the clash of metal on metal and the sound of grunting as if from a blow. She could smell food being cooked, something meaty and fat. Distant bird song filtered through the halls and she could smell the lush green of the vines that climbed the outer walls. She noted that they passed a room with women weaving tapestries and another that looked like a great library.

Finally, they reached their destination. They stood before two massive doors laid intricately with curving lines and what looked like some kind of language in small, delicate writing. Two of the guards stepped forward and in precise union swung open the doors, heaving with might, their muscles straining in doing so. 

Before them lay a great hall, far greater than the one they’d arrived in. It was filled with people dressed in what Darcy assumed was Asgard finery. They lined the walls and she thought there must be hundreds of them but they made no sound as Darcy and Jane entered. The floor gleamed and their steps echoed off the walls as they walked. At the other end of the room there was a dais leading up to a throne befit any king of legend and rivaling that of any that ever existed on Earth. This far back Darcy could only make out shapes. She could tell that someone was sitting in the throne, Odin, she assumed. And that there were people lined along the steps leading up to him. One of them she was sure was Thor. He stood heads above the rest and his bright red cape was a dead giveaway.

As they moved closer she was able to discern four warrior types to the right and she quickly realized it was the same four she’d met in New Mexico. One of them, the handsome blonde, flashed her a brilliant smile and nodded in her direction. She was about to smile back, instinctively, when she heard a strange hissing sound to her left. She looked and nearly tripped over the hem of her gown. There, aside Thor, stood Loki. Not the Loki she’d grown accustomed to seeing the last few days, the one that snuck into her room at night and watched her watching the world, occasionally asking her ridiculous questions. No. This Loki was the one of the legends, the one whispered about around campfires and whose tales were told to frighten naughty children. 

A gold helmet sat atop his head with metal horns curling up and reaching for the sky. His arms were covered with intricate metal braces as were his chest and thighs. Black leather peeked out from the places not covered by armor and a long verdant cape flowed from his shoulders. Worst of all though was the look on his face. _If looks could kill_ , thought Darcy, _every person in this room would be dead right now_

Darcy shivered which seemed to draw Loki’s attention away from the object of his hatred. His eyes scanned her and a look passed over his face that she didn’t recognize. She couldn’t be sure without her glasses but she thought she saw his nostrils flare.

She felt Jane tugging on her hand and realized she had stopped and was staring at Loki as brazenly as he’d been staring at her. She grasped Jane’s hand harder and mentally slapped herself out of her stupor, focusing instead on the other people. Thor also stood to her left but his eyes were trained solely on Jane. They beamed with pride and love and as Jane and Darcy neared he descended the steps to take a place by Jane’s side. Also to the left, at the top of the steps, stood an older, though no less beautiful, woman who she presumed to be Odin’s wife, Frigga. The woman looked down on them kindly and with a warm smile.

The man on the throne looked every bit how she’d imagined God looked when she was a small child and still prone to believing in such things. That is, if God wore armor and an eye patch. His long white hair and matching white beard were exactly what she had envisioned but from there all precepts dissipated. This man, despite his age, looked to her as though he could battle twenty men and win with one arm tied behind his back. He reeked of power to her. His body was strong and his one good eye sharp as a tack. He bore no warm smiles or kind nods and she instinctively lowered her gaze when he looked upon her.

He rose, slowly, though she doubted it was from weakness and suspected more that it was for show. In one hand he held a scepter and she heard it clang against the hard floor as he stood. The sound reverberated throughout the room, traveling right through her, and just when she thought she’d recovered from it he picked up the scepter and slammed purposefully down on the floor so that it rang throughout the room making it shake as though the ground would swallow them whole. He did this seven more times and Darcy was sure the whole of the kingdom must be hearing it too. She’d covered her ears with her hands to try to dim the tide of sound and felt her teeth chatter in the wake of it.

“Eight,” said the man that stood before her, his face stern and tinged with darkness. “Eight branches are all that are left of the sacred tree that binds us together.”

He turned his good eye on Jane and Darcy and his features softened infinitesimally. “And two,” he continued as he made his way down the steps. “Two are all that are left of Midgard, our sister planet, whom we swore to protect.”

He now stood directly before Darcy and Jane. “In all my years,” he said, “of which there have been many, never have I seen such a thing as what has transpired these last few days.” Darcy heard a hint of fatigue in his voice and something akin to shame. He took, first Darcy’s hand, and then Jane’s, kissing each in turn. “Asgard is your home now. You will want for nothing. You will dine at my table, live under my roof, be as my own, always. And when the time comes,” he said, the darkness returning to his face, “I will ride to my death to avenge what has been taken from us. By my blood, I swear it shall be done.”

The crowd applauded then, though there was no mirth or excitement in it. Rather, Darcy thought, it sounded more akin to a threat, the way a sky would rumble just before a storm.

“I leave you now, to the good graces of my wife, whose company is far more palatable than my own.” said Odin.

The older woman stepped down and placed her hand in Odin’s. She kissed him briefly on the cheek and then turned her attention to the girls while he resumed his seat on the throne.

“Jane, Darcy,” she said, nodding at them each and smiling warmly. “May I?” she asked, as she opened her arms, clearly wanting to hug them. Jane and Darcy nodded yes and Frigga embraced them. “You both look so beautiful,” she whispered before placing a kiss on each of their foreheads. 

“Come,” she said, taking their hands. “Let me show you your new home.”

Though she meant well, the words twisted inside of Darcy. Darcy didn’t want a new home. She wanted her old home. She wanted her messy bed and her morning coffee and her Sunday Skype sessions with her mother. She wanted scrambled eggs with ketchup and cheap tabloid magazines and stupid movies with bad punch lines. She wanted to be cooped up in that boring lab with Jane, wanted to be there when her cousin’s baby was born, wanted her father to walk her down the aisle someday. But not even one of those things would ever happen. So even though Frigga’s and Odin’s words were meant to comfort her she didn’t feel comforted. She felt cheated. She wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to have died on that planet with everyone else.

As she walked out of the room guided by the Queen of Asgard, Darcy Lewis began to feel the first seeds of anger planting within her. Throughout the day those seeds grew, unfurling with every kind word and gesture so that by the time she was finally able to retire to her chamber she had no patience left for anyone, especially not Loki.

 

* * *

Ignoring the God of Mischief’s threat to silence her tongue, Darcy focused instead on releasing her hair from its binds while staring blankly at the fire before her. She tugged and pulled to no avail growing more frustrated by the second.

“What the hell!” she growled while clawing at her hair. She'd already changed out of her gown and it was the last remnant of the day, the last reminder of the smothering kindness she’d received, and she was just _done_ with it. She got up onto her knees and looked around wildly for a pair of scissors, ready to cut every last lock off if that’s what it took.

Before she could even register any movement Loki was behind her. His hands tugged at hers pulling them away from her head and down to her sides.

“Get off me!” she screamed, kicking her feet out in an effort to stand, the objects from her purse skittering across the floor.

“Be still,” he said. The edge in his words brooked no argument and seemed to touch something buried deep within her. She did as he said; stilling immediately, though her breath fell fast and hard with the strain of her outburst.

She felt him run his hand over her hair and she thought she heard him whisper too but her heart was thundering in her ears so loudly she couldn’t be sure. What she was sure of was that within minutes her hair fell loose and smooth around her shoulders, free from the braid and pins and combs.

Without a word, Loki rose and left the room.

That night Darcy slept; the first real and true sleep since landing on Asgard. And when she dreamt it was not of broken earths and dying people. That night she dreamt of snakes; dozens of snakes dripping from a great tree and slithering towards her. When they reached her they formed into one large snake the size of a tall man. It slithered up into her bed, weaving its way between her legs, and resting its long body atop hers, head nestled at the base of her neck, fast little tongue flicking out and tickling her throat. It was heavy. Heavy as any man and she found that she could not move, not that she wanted to. There was a strange sort of comfort in the weight of this creature upon her. It gave her something to focus on so that when she closed her eyes she didn’t immediately spiral into a panic attack. It grounded her and made her breathing thick and heavy. She shifted purposefully every so often so that she could feel its slick skin sliding against her own.

In this dream she grew tired, became a dream within a dream. She drifted deeper into that realm of sleep within sleep, her weary soul laying claim to its much needed rest. As she slipped from the waking world of her dream she heard the snake whisper into her ear. It spoke to her as a lover, dark and violent as a coming storm, making promises or threats, she knew not which. No boy had ever spoken such things to her. She shuddered once, a cold shiver running up her spine, before she lost consciousness and passed mercifully into a peaceful slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. So, wow. Thank you. I've had a much higher response to this story than I was expecting. Thank you all so much for reading and for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks. It really touches my heart and inspires me. I just hope I can keep doing this justice and can continue to entertain you all. 
> 
> This chapter was beta'd by the lovely LaTessitrice. Go check out her stories if you haven't already. Any errors in this chapter are my own and I actually do have a question for you that I'll post in the end notes section. Because I like to give credit where credit is due please be aware that there are some direct mythology references in this chapter that I twisted slightly for my purposes. There is also a reference to a Pablo Neruda poem that I felt fit these two characters perfectly for this story. And for those that like trigger warnings please also be aware that there is some gruesome imagery in this chapter but it was necessary in my humble opinion.
> 
> Thanks again for reading. Feedback is always lovely. Enjoy.

Loki Laufeyson. Loki Odinson. Loki Friggason. A man divided, and in being divided, fell. Pushed and pulled this way and that. A perfect storm of fate and the ultimate in nature versus nurture: abandoned at birth, left to die, taken in by the great All-Father as a means to an end, and loved, truly, by his adoptive mother, an Aesir. The Dark Prince of the House of Odin felt out of place in all corners of the universe and though he’d deny it to his death the one thing he craved more than anything was acceptance, which was a gift he could not even give himself. All of these things conspired, tragically, to set in motion the events that led to his fall from grace: his plot to take the throne, his attempt at murdering Thor, his plans to destroy Jotunheim, and eventually to become ruler of Midgard. He failed at every turn, and in failing, fell further into madness.

For his crimes against humanity and against his kingdom he should have rightly been put to death, and would have been had it not been for the grace of Odin. Odin: who felt responsible, who blamed himself, who in the darkest chambers of his heart regretted taking in the Jotun child. In his great mercy he chose to merely imprison Loki, stripping him of all magic, which to Loki might as well have been death. By the time he was released, in no small part at Frigga’s behest, he was a shell of the man he used to be. Which was, perhaps, not a bad thing, at least not in the eyes of his kin. Where once there had been a semblance of trust now lived only suspicion and anger. Loki heard the whispers in the halls; saw the furtive glances and the wide berths given him. He told himself it didn’t matter; convinced himself that it was amusing, because that was better than the truth, better than caring.

The night Midgard fell, Loki had been in his chambers studying. He’d felt the subtle shift in energy that meant someone was using the Scrying Room; his mother, he assumed, followed soon after by the bellowing of his idiot not-brother, Thor. There was much commotion, no small amount of arguing, and then his brother’s complete and utter dismissal of his father’s wishes.

“I am going, All-Father. You cannot stop me. I pray only that you allow us to return.” He had said in a grim tone.

Loki wished he could have seen the look on Odin’s face when Thor defied him. It was not a thing that oft happened.

Loki, all too curious now, had left his quarters to see what all the fuss was about. Was there war brewing? Some sort of civil unrest? Something to which he could sink his teeth into and have some fun with?

As it turned out, it was nothing so interesting. Midgard, the planet Earth, was about to befall some sort of catastrophe, and Thor, lovesick smitten Thor, could not leave his lady love there to perish with all the other small-minded creatures. Loki actually felt a bit of relief at hearing the news. It made his failure to reign over Midgard sting ever so less. He thought perhaps the Universe had actually spared him from the disappointment of ruling a soon-to-be dead planet. He smiled.

They convened in one of the many great halls, and much to Loki’s surprise, the woman Jane was not alone. There was another girl, another Midgardian. She was young, with long brown locks and fair skin. She looked bewildered, wide-eyed, and scared. Loki was intrigued.

 _This is different_ , he thought. Loki liked different.

He watched her as she was told her planet’s fate. Watched her as the anger blossomed on her face, as the tears spilled and the catatonia crept in. She’d rounded on him, unafraid, even knowing who he was. It was…refreshing.

He told himself that he was bored, that night after night he visited her because he was bored and she was something new and different and she filled the spaces of his waking hours. He asked her questions about how she felt, what she thought. Sometimes she stared blankly out at the city. Other times she turned to him with fire in her eyes. He could see a wildness in her, could feel her anger and her sadness. He wanted to run his fingers along those emotions and play them like a finely tuned instrument, plucking his fingers along the strings of her heart, making her quiver and sing for him.

When she sat because he’d told her to, it had thrilled him. When she stilled at his command, it had thrilled him. When he’d seen her for the first time in the finest silks of Asgard, it had thrilled him. 

And so it was that he had found himself in her bedchamber that night, stretched along her sleeping form, claiming it as his own. For, unbeknownst to Odin, Loki still had his magic. Not the full destructive power of it, but enough to change his shape, enough to calm the mind of a young girl and mold her dreams to those of his making. He whispered to her, spoke of his intentions, made promises in the dark. And if he liked it when she moved beneath him he told himself it was boredom, it was from the lack of a woman’s touch in more moons than he could remember, and not because of any fondness for the girl called Darcy, not at all because he felt any kinship with this lost girl who no longer had a home and no one to love her.

That’s what he told himself, anyway, when he sought her out night after night.

 

* * *

Tonight she was not in her room which surprised Loki. She was always in her room, always sitting out on the balcony watching the city sleep. But not tonight. His first thought was of Jane. They were best friends. It would make sense if she had sought solace in her company. But she was not there. Loki found Thor and Jane deep in conversation, likely about what had happened to Midgard. His next thought was of his mother, Frigga. She’d taken both girls under her wing and so it would not be a stretch of the imagination to picture her with Darcy, perhaps weaving or telling tales. He checked his mother’s quarters, the weaving room, and the gardens to no avail. Loki’s pace quickened. He was growing agitated. Images of Fandral in the great hall smiling down at Darcy came unbidden and try as he might he could not push them back.

He searched the kitchen, the servants’ quarters, the library, and the stalls, all without success. He decided to head back to his room to concoct a locator spell to find her. As he walked the long hall he could hear the steady tattoo of the drums calling the warriors home. It was tradition, as the sun set, for the men and women of Asgard to beat upon a goatskin drum so that the protectors of the realm may find their way home. It was a soft and steady solemn beat with an occasional voice rung out in song for good measure. It was in listening that Loki found what he was looking for.

He heard grunting from the sparring room, which at this hour should have stood empty. It was a room used for practice; long, wide and open to the outside, with great columns lining it. It held all manner of weapon from bows to swords to axes and in one corner were large squares of cloth spread across the floor filled with hay and unspun wool for wrestling and other weaponless fighting. The walls were lined with spears and knives, and there were fighting staffs for the young not yet allowed to practice with blades.

This was the weapon Darcy Lewis was using, and quite well he noted. She was currently beating the stuffing out of a practice dummy, literally. He leaned his long, lithe body against one of the columns and watched her quietly, shrouding himself so that she would not see him.

She was dressed in a simple black tunic and black pants. Her feet were bare and her hair long and flowing. Sweat gleamed on her skin in the dying light of the sun and Loki wondered how it would taste upon his tongue. He pushed the thought away just as soon as it presented itself.

She beat the dummy mercilessly, rendering great, thundering cracks upon its head and shoulders.

“I hate you!” she screamed at the thing, but the leather and wood contraption gave no reply which seemed to make her angrier.

“Go to hell!” she said as she dropped the staff. She spit on the silent figure and then kicked it mightily which was a mistake.

“Ow!” She dropped to the floor while clutching her foot. She glared at the dummy. “You’re lucky I don’t have my taser,” she whispered.

“Is that the weapon you used to take down Thor?” asked Loki as he came out of the shadows.

Darcy looked up, one eyebrow quirked. 

“You’re like a bad penny,” she said to Loki.

“I do not understand the reference,” he said, kneeling down before her on the balls of his feet.

“You keep turning up,” she replied.

Loki smiled.

“Not without some effort this evening.” He reached for her foot but she pulled away.

“Stop that,” he reprimanded. “Give me your foot.” He motioned with his hand for emphasis.

She sighed and sat back, giving in to him.

The third toe in was nearly broken. He could feel the blood throbbing and the muscle swelling and knew there’d be a bruise, that she might even have difficulty walking for a few days. He looked at her, wondering if he could trust her or if he should let her suffer.

“Just do whatever you’re going to do,” she said to him. She lay down and stared up at the ceiling, her arms at her sides.

“What can I do without my magic?” he asked as innocently as possible.

“Please,” she said, laughing. “You don’t fool me. I don’t believe for one second that you don’t have your magic.”

This angered Loki. He grabbed her injured toe with his fingers and squeezed.

“Ow! What the fuck?” she said as she pulled away from him, dragging herself backwards along the floor.

“You are an insolent little thing, aren’t you?” he sneered. “You’d do well to learn some respect.” He stood, towering over her. “Perhaps some time in the stockades?” he mused, cocking his head to the side. “Or training with the attendants? I assure you, they can be quite cruel at times. Or perhaps I should just cut you where you lie, feed you to the wolves, and be done with you.” 

Darcy, still leaning back on her elbows, asked him “What happened to you?”

The question took Loki off guard and he stood for a moment, speechless, staring at her. Instead of slapping her, which a part of him wanted to do, he held out his hand to her.

“I can get up on my own, thank you very much,” she said, dismissing him. She began to sit up but was interrupted by his quiet plea.

“Please,” he said, extending his hand again. His voice was soft, almost kind.

Darcy looked at him trying to discern whether or not this was some trick of his. Her gut told her it wasn’t so she took his hand, taking a deep breath before placing her slender fingers in his long ones. He was cool to the touch, his skin smooth, and it triggered a memory within her, or rather the feeling of a memory though she could not place it. She knew only that the memory seemed to slide through her body, touching places she’d been trying to shut off.

Loki kept hold of her hand even once she was stood.

Darcy looked up and into his eyes. His face was cast in golden shadows and his green eyes searched hers.

“Has my mother told you of Asgardian prisons yet?” he asked her.

Darcy shook her head no.

“Then I shall tell you,” he said. 

He escorted Darcy back to her room, her hand held firmly in his, _to help her balance_ , he told himself, so that he would not have to pick her up if she fell.

After she was settled into her chair, wrapped in her favorite gold throw, Loki told her of his time imprisoned. He told her how Odin had bound Loki with his own entrails so that whenever he pulled or strained it merely caused him more pain, unimaginable pain; he told her how he had been given venom to drink instead of water, and how the poison coursed through his system, making him convulse and pull on his binds; He told her of the time they’d spread open his ribs and Odin had said “Now look, we make the ravens glad.” while Thor looked on and Frigga fretted. He told her how it was Frigga who had freed him ultimately, by threatening to leave The King. 

He told this human, this mortal, of things he’d spoken to no one about. She listened, silently, and when he was done, she stood, letting the golden throw fall to the concrete beneath her feet. She hobbled over to him and took his hand in hers. Without a word, she led him to her bed. She lay down and when he stood there, confused, she motioned for him to join her.

Loki lay down on top of the covers; stiff, unsure of what was happening. He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows from the hearth fire dancing there.

Darcy was snuggled underneath the lush covers, turned on her side to face Loki.

“You deserved every second of that torture,” she whispered. She paused for a moment, and then she kissed Loki on the cheek.

That night Darcy slept. She dreamed of gallows and racks and iron maidens and other medieval devices.

Loki did not sleep. But he did dream. He dreamed of the girl lying next to him. In his dream she was spit and fire and other dark things. In his dream he loved her as dark things should be loved, in secret, in the shadows. He did not know why, but he knew it was so and it vexed him.

Loki Laufeyson, Loki Odinson, Loki Friggason, was falling in love and he hated every second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was one thing I was unable to clarify with my beta before posting this chapter because we live in different time zones and she's probably sleeping right now. I am writing this story in the third person narrative. While I realize it is the norm in fan fiction to have alternating points of view I prefer the third person narrative because it gives you more freedom as a writer. You can jump from character to character and place to place because you are telling the story. You aren't restricted by location or character and I find it lends itself well to this genre. I thought it was clear that I wasn't writing in first person by all the 'he said, she said' instead of 'I said' but I'm wondering if I'm wrong? Is the third person narrative unclear? Did you guys read this story thinking I was writing from the different characters' points of view? I'd like to know so I can fix this. If it's unclear then I need to step up my game somehow and make it clear that this is third person without having to explain it. Your feedback in this would be invaluable and if I have made things confusing you have my apologies.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter beta'd by LaTessitrice. Thank you so much to all my readers. You guys are such an inspiration, truly. And thank you especially to the people who answered my question from the notes in the previous chapter. I really appreciate the feedback. Don't ever feel like any of you need to hold back on concrit. If the writing of this story falters in voice or skill just give me a heads up and I'll strive to do better.
> 
> A little warning for this chapter: This chapter sees Darcy get her period. I describe this in a fair amount of detail because I felt it was important but I mention it in case any of you are queasy about blood. I promise it's not gratuitous but it is there and it does have a purpose.
> 
> Anyway, thanks again to Michelle and all my readers. If you haven't already do check out Latessitrice's stories and I'd also like to give a shout-out to ofravenwing's story The Blood-Dimmed Tide which I'm loving.
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think!

A bright, golden dawn seeped through the windows as Darcy Lewis slept. It woke her slowly, a gentle prodding rather than the startling jolt of a nightmare, which given her dreams that night would not have been a surprising way to wake. She found, as she reached out her arm, that her bed was empty, and then opened her eyes to confirm. A mix of emotions washed over her: disappointment that Loki was gone, and relief that he was, and a little bit of embarrassment too. She groaned when she recalled kissing Loki on the cheek. By all rights she should have hated him but there was something about him in that moment. It wasn’t pity that she felt but rather a strange sort of kinship. He didn’t seem to fit into this world and neither did she.

She sat up and ruffled the bed sheets, lifting them to look underneath as though she might find him buried there in their volume and heft. _Stranger things…_ “Especially in this place,” she said aloud. 

Darcy rubbed the sleep from her eyes and got up. The smooth floor was cold under her feet and she swore. She realized though, upon standing, that her toe no longer hurt. She looked down and sure enough there was no swelling or bruising.

“Huh,” she said, “no magic my ass.”

Still woozy from sleeping she stumbled towards the washing chamber adjacent to her sleeping quarters. The Asgardians had managed a type of water pressure system using pipes feeding into and from nearby rivers and lakes. Her ‘shower’ functioned much like well-water from a pump system. It was slightly clumsy but it did the job and it was better than what she’d expected which was no shower at all.

As Darcy walked she felt something odd and came to a sudden and horrifying realization.

“Oh, no,” she said.

She gathered up the hem of her bedclothes and lifted them up so she could look at her legs.

“Oh, hell no!” she said.

The insides of her thighs were streaked red and growing slicker by the second.

She hobbled as quickly as she could to the washing chamber, pulling her bedclothes over her head as she went and tossing them aside. She quickly entered the bathing area, letting the cool water flow over her. 

“Oh, fuck,” she said, as the first wave of pain rolled through her abdomen.

Rivers of red were now flowing freely, mingling with the water at her feet. She clasped a hand to her lower belly and moaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, ow,” she said.

“Are you alright?” she heard a voice from the doorway ask. She turned to see Loki standing there, staring at her.

“Jesus Christ, Loki, privacy!” she screamed as she grabbed a nearby linen to cover herself with.

“It…sounded like you were hurt. I was concerned,” he said by way of explanation.

“I’m fine,” she said, as she involuntarily looked down at the mess between her feet. Loki followed her gaze.

“You’re cycling,” he said as he took a step closer.

“Get out,” she said. She would have pointed at the door for emphasis but she was afraid of dropping the linen covering her.

“It upsets you?” he asked. “Why?”

Darcy sighed. 

“Because it _hurts_ ,” she said. “And it’s gross. And it smells. And I don’t know what I’m going to do on this crummy planet because I doubt you have tampons.”

“But it means you are able to bear children,” he said, as he took another step closer. “This is a blessing, not something to be reviled.

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” she replied, “when you can have a period you can tell me how blessed you feel.”

“There is great power in what you are experiencing. A power men like me could never hope to harness,” he said. His gaze rested on her stomach.

She felt another wave of pain and again clasped her belly with her hand.

“Here,” Loki reached out his hand towards her.

Darcy backed up against the wall, water flowing down over her shoulders and soaking the cloth she held over herself.

“Back off, Mr. Grabby Hands,” she said.

“I can help,” said Loki.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she mumbled.

Loki smirked but then a cloud seemed to pass over his face.

“No. Only you.” He said his voice barely audible.

“What are you going to do?” she asked. She bit her lip, chewing on it as she waited for his answer.

“I’m going to take the pain away,” he said.

Darcy nodded, curious.

Loki reached his hand under the linen Darcy was holding tightly to her body. Her skin was slick and cool from the water and he could feel the minute tremors from her cramps, could feel her body pulsing with life. He looked into her eyes and Darcy suddenly felt very small and very vulnerable.

He rested his hand on her lower abdomen, its length spanning nearly from hip bone to hip bone. He closed his eyes and began muttering words Darcy could not understand. His hand grew warm and that warmth spread out, sending a tingling sensation through her. She relaxed her death grip on the material covering her and leaned back.

As the heat grew and spread she felt her pain dissipate. For a brief moment she felt something else, something other than the fading pain and the heat from Loki’s hand. She felt a faint burst of need, the kind you feel when you kiss someone and your body suddenly wants far more than a kiss, but it passed just as quickly as it came and before Darcy knew it Loki was removing his hand.

“There,” he said. “Better?”

The words were spoken politely enough but his tone was clipped, short. He did not seem able to even look at her.

She nodded yes and then realized he probably couldn’t see since he was staring at his hands. He wrung them back and forth as though they pained him.

“Y…yes,” she said. “Thank you.”

He nodded and began walking away without another word.

“How long?” she called out after him. “How long will it last?”

He turned partway to her when he reached the door but still refused to look at her.

“Until you’ve completed this cycle.” He turned and left the room and as his footsteps receded Darcy heard him call out, “I’ll send an attendant to help you.”

Darcy didn’t know what to make of what’d just happened. She was thankful that the pain was gone but confused by Loki’s behavior. He was a bizarre mix of kindness and annoyance and it was making her head spin.

Before she had any further chance to think on it she heard a knock at the door. When she looked up she saw her attendant, Aetta, peeking around the corner. “May I come in?” asked the older woman. Her long graying hair was pulled back in a double bun and she wore the simple garments of a servant but Darcy had the strangest feeling that if she were called to battle she’d fare just as well as any man. Her body, though short in stature, was strong and muscled and her demeanor one of no nonsense; pleasant enough but always to the point.

“Yes,” Darcy nodded and waved for her to enter. “I’m having a bit of a problem,” said Darcy. She patted her lower belly and continued, “seems Aunt Flo is visiting and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Aetta ignored Darcy’s Midgardian colloquialism.

“So I’ve been told,” she said. She laid out some clothing on the dressing table. “I’ll fetch you some tea,” said the older woman as she left the room. “Put those on while I’m gone.”

Darcy inspected the clothes, water dripping onto the floor as she did so. 

“Great,” she said as she held up the underwear. “Granny panties. Just what I always wanted.” 

Inside they were lined with removable padding that Darcy assumed was meant to absorb her menses. There was a small pile of replacements on the dressing table as well.

She dressed, donning the bulky undergarments, and opted to wear pants over them for fear that they may fall right off her were she in a gown. Though her pain was gone she still felt like she suddenly weighed twenty more pounds. She turned this way and that in front of her mirror and sighed.

 _Maybe I should just stay in bed_ , thought Darcy.

As if on cue her attendant entered with the tea.

“The Queen would like an audience with you today in the Weaving Room,” she said as she placed the tray of tea and bread down on the little table in Darcy’s room. “As soon as you’re done with your breakfast.”

She looked up at Darcy, then very noticeably at Darcy’s pants. She tsk’ed and then left the room.

 _So much for going back to bed_.

She walked over to the tray of food and tea and sat down. She lifted the warm cup to her nose and breathed in. The tea smelled minty and faintly of earth. She took a tentative sip and wondered if it was meant to ease her menstrual pain. In the days following her arrival on Asgard the attendants had brought her a tea to calm her nerves but she never bothered to drink it. She had wanted to feel her pain. Now she just felt guilty because Loki had taken away her pain. She didn’t really need this tea but she drank it anyway, not wanting to raise any suspicion.

The bread and jam was her usual fare though this morning she half felt like retching it up the moment she swallowed. Her body always seemed to be of two minds when she had her period: it waffled between wanting to eat everything in sight and wanting to vomit at the sight of food. Today was no different but she forced herself to eat at least a little.

As she ate she wondered what Frigga wanted to see her about; was there news about what had happened to Earth? She made a mental note to visit Jane and force her out of the cocoon of her room and Thor’s arms. Not that she blamed Jane. Anything was better than thinking about what’d happened, than thinking about the fact that they were now two ships lost at sea, directionless, hopeless, and stranded. Darcy had never had any great designs for her life and that had never really bothered her but now that the rug had been pulled out from under her she felt scared, adrift. It was easy, before, to imagine that someday maybe she’d get married or go to grad school or just stay happily working with Jane for Stark Industries. It had been a nice, comfortable life, and even though the world had been turned on its head because of the Chitauri attack Darcy hadn’t let it faze her. But this fazed her. What was she supposed to do? What could she do? Darcy felt the first prickling of tears sting her eyes and threw down her half-eaten piece of bread onto her plate.

“That’s enough of that,” she said to no one in particular. She got up, took one last look at herself in her mirror, and then went to find Frigga.

 

Frigga stood in the large weaving room overlooking the gardens. It had been her doing to have the large bay windows overlooking her prized flowers and shrubs. _So that beauty may gaze upon beauty_ , she’d told Odin; her beloved Odin who was so very troubled by the recent events. They’d each been trying, in their own ways, to discover what had led to Earth’s destruction. Odin was locked away in the War Chamber with only the highest regarded of counsel. The human, Jane, was with Thor. Sometimes they discussed, sometimes they did other things. Frigga did not fault her or her son for this. It was normal to seek reassurance of life in the face of death.

Herself, she’d been spending more time in the Scrying Room trying to discern fate from the inky pool therein. Most of what she saw was mere nonsensical shadows. All but one thing which was why she found herself here, today, waiting for the one called Darcy.

“Ahem,” she heard from behind her, and then heard a faint knocking.

Frigga turned to see Darcy standing there. The girl looked better, if not a little pale. Her eyes were no longer sunken and red and she looked to be putting a little meat on her bones.

“Come,” said Frigga while holding out her hand.

Darcy approached and laid her hand in Frigga’s. Frigga lightly kissed her on the cheek.

“It’s good to see you,” she said. She sat down on a bench facing the windows and pulled Darcy down with her. “Is Asgard treating you well?” asked Frigga. She patted the top of Darcy’s hand with her free hand.

Darcy nodded yes. “Y…yes,” she said, nervous in the presence of the Queen. She’d never met royalty before and wasn’t sure how to act.

“Am I in trouble?” she blurted out.

“Goodness, no!” Frigga laughed. “Why ever would you think that?”

Darcy looked down at her feet, her long hair cascading around her face. “I don’t know. Because you’re the queen and I’m a nobody and you wanted to see me.”

“Darcy, dear,” said Frigga as she brushed back a lock of Darcy’s hair behind her ear, “You are most certainly not a nobody.”

Darcy looked at her tentatively.

“Tell me,” Frigga continued, “What did you do on Earth?”

Darcy bit her lip. “Um, helped Jane mostly.” She said. “I was a student when Thor first came to New Mexico. Then, after I graduated, I just stayed working with Jane.”

“But what did you do, exactly?” asked Frigga.

“Research,” said Darcy as she looked around the room. The day had become overcast but the huge windows let in plenty of light to see by. There were several looms of various sizes set about the room. Some were empty, others had partially completed work on them, and one, against the far wall looked to be just about complete. It was this one that drew Darcy’s attention.

“What do you see?” asked Frigga as she followed Darcy’s gaze.

Darcy stood and approached the tapestry. It was one of the larger ones. The threading was mostly shades of gold with bits of red and black and silver and a touch of green. Some loose threads dangled haphazardly from it. Darcy cocked her head and the image seemed to shift. She took a step to the left and it changed again. To the right, and the same. 

“I don’t know,” said Darcy. “It keeps changing.”

She felt Frigga’s hands rest gently on her shoulders. “You’re a very talented young lady.” She said. “Do you know that?”

“Here,” said Frigga. “Close your eyes.”

Darcy did as the older woman asked and felt her move around to her front.

“Take a few deep breaths; try to clear your mind, and when you open your eyes focus on the first thing you see.”

Darcy nodded and then she felt Frigga step away.

She did as she’d been instructed, breathing in deeply like she’d been taught in yoga class, and tried to clear her mind of all thought. It wasn’t easy, because really she had a million thoughts bouncing around her head but every time one vied for attention she just pictured herself holding a baseball bat and knocking it away. Eventually the steady stream of internal noise died down and Darcy opened her eyes.

“Water,” she said. “I see water.”

Darcy took a step back. The image frightened her. It was like a great dark wave, encompassing the whole of the tapestry and it reminded her too much of that night in Paris, her last night on Earth, when everything had gone dark.

“Everything’s drowning,” said Darcy, “Disappearing.”

“It’s alright,” said Frigga as she wrapped her arm around Darcy’s shoulder. “Come, sit.” She said.

Darcy was shaking.

“I don’t feel well,” she said. “I think I should go back to my room.”

“Of course,” said Frigga. “I’ll walk you back.”

As they walked Darcy found herself looking for Loki. For all of his annoying habits he’d become a bit of a port in the storm for her and she found herself needing to be with him right now.

“He favors you, you know,” said Frigga as they walked.

Darcy stared at her, jaw agape.

“Can you read minds?” asked Darcy. She pointed at her temple for emphasis.

“No,” Frigga laughed. “I just know my son. He spends a great many hours troubled by you.”

“He’s just bored,” said Darcy, brushing it off. “I’m a box he wants to unlock. That’s all.” She shrugged.

“As you say,” replied Frigga.

She left Darcy at the door of her chamber after having wished her well and asking to see her again the next day. The girl had agreed and they’d parted ways.

As Frigga walked away she thought of what the girl had seen in her tapestry. It was a special piece, shown only to a select few. It was, as many things in life are, malleable, and the image changed often though only a certain few could see that. To most it was a bunch of gold thread, a pretty picture reminiscent of their home or a jumble of nothing particular at all, depending on the viewer. To Frigga, and women like her, it was a window, a particularly potent one for those with the gift of sight, which Darcy seemed to be.

 _Darcy_ , she thought. _Will she be a salve to my son’s wounds or will she break what’s left of him?_

Frigga headed for the Scrying Room. She had many questions that needed answering, not least of which was the meaning behind Darcy’s vision.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! My apologies for taking awhile to update. Hopefully this chapter will be worth the wait. You may or may not have noticed that I have now bumped the rating up to M. While there is no explicit content in this chapter I have decided that we've marched into enough mature territory to warrant the rating as it will only continue from here.
> 
> Special thank you to my beta latessitrice for her feedback and speedy reply. As always, I hope you guys are reading her stories. Also, and I am so gobsmacked by this, ofravenwings is writing me a story. There are two chapters posted so far, so in addition to reading her other work I hope you'll go check out my present. It's called Animadverto.
> 
> As always, no copyright infringement intended. Any remaining errors are my own, not my beta's. Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story and left kudos and comments. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The next few days found Loki to be conspicuously absent and though life on Asgard kept Darcy Lewis busy, she found herself often seeking him out. He was her first thought upon waking and her last thought before her eyes closed at night. She looked in the shadows of the halls for him, listened for whispers of his name, wondered at every slinking critter she saw after having learned of his shape-shifting abilities. It was all to no avail though and she dared not ask for fear of ridicule. Instead she bore the time visiting Jane, studying with Frigga, and learning the lay of the land.

 

“It’s not so bad,” said Jane in an effort to placate Darcy. She was referring to life on Asgard, though Darcy had to bite her tongue because she was sure the only bit of it Jane had seen had involved a very naked Norse God.

 

Darcy was picking a piece of lint off her skirt while they sat on Jane’s bed. Her period, to her pleasant surprise, was not only painless but short lived so today she was daring to wear something a bit more feminine. The silks rustled whenever she shifted and it made her think of the awful taffeta dress she’d had to wear to her uncle’s wedding when she was young. The clothes on Asgard were much better than that gaudy, purple monstrosity with bubble sleeves. This dress, pale rose in color, almost made her feel like a princess and if she tried real hard she could pretend this was all just some sort of messed up fairy tale with a guaranteed happy ending. Without realizing it, Darcy smiled to herself at the thought.

 

“What?” asked Jane, as she mirrored Darcy’s smile.

 

Darcy looked up. The smile seemed wrong on Jane. Her eyes were haloed by dark circles the color of faint bruises and there was no light in them. Just like that Darcy’s fantasy was shattered and replaced instead with the bitter reality that there would be no happy ending.

 

Darcy’s face fell. “Nothing. I was just daydreaming. It was stupid,” she said. She looked away from Jane’s inquisitive eyes and pretended to scan the room.

 

“This is nice, huh?” she said, about the room. “Is this Thor’s room?” It was massive. Much larger than Darcy’s room, and she realized that she was feeling a momentary flash of jealousy over the fact that Jane got to share a room with her lover.  Darcy didn’t even know where Loki was never mind what his room looked like.

 

“It is,” said Jane, blushing. “I’m not sure what his parents think but he insisted.”

 

“Lucky you,” said Darcy with no small amount of sarcasm.

 

“Darce, what’s wrong?” Jane reached out a hand to her friend and laid it briefly on her arm.

 

Darcy laughed bitterly. “What’s wrong?” she asked, incredulously, her voice rising in tenor. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Darcy rose from the bed and began pacing. “What’s wrong?” she said again as she paced back and forth, her hands gesticulating as she moved. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” she said as she looked pointedly at Jane. “We’re on a fucking alien planet is what’s wrong. Except instead of little green men it’s full of ancient Norse gods who, I might add, are probably the reason we’re in this mess. Probably,” she continued, “one of them fucked with the wrong god or monster or whatever and they decided to _smite_ us out of revenge.”

 

“Fuck this planet here” said Darcy with a large sweep of her arm, “no one cares about Earth or Midgard or whatever the fuck it’s called anyway.”

 

Darcy turned and pointed right at Jane.

 

“And you,” she said. “You just sit in here playing house with He-Man pretending nothing’s wrong while…while…”

 

She couldn’t finish the rest because everything else she could think of ended with Loki and she realized she was being petty and ridiculous and taking her frustration out in the wrong place. She wasn’t mad at Jane. She was mad at Loki for disappearing, for abandoning her and she felt like an idiot.

 

“Oh my God,” she said as she slapped her hands over her face. “I’m so sorry,” she said between her splayed fingers.

 

She dropped her hands and looked at Jane. “I’m so sorry,” she said again, her head tilting to the side. She knelt down next to Jane and took Jane’s hands in her own. “I’m not mad at you. I swear. Can I blame my period?” asked Darcy.

 

Jane smiled weakly and petted Darcy’s head. “You poor thing” she said, “You don’t have any chocolate or coffee or anything. Do I even want to know…” Jane began to ask her but Darcy cut her off.

 

“No, you don’t. But you’ll find out eventually anyway. I hope you like granny panties.”

 

“Jesus,” said Jane as she rolled her eyes.

 

Darcy got up and sat on the bed next to Jane. “Have you heard anything?” she asked Jane tentatively, her voice quiet and meek.

 

“No.” Jane shook her head. “I don’t know if it’s some sort of misogyny thing or what but he doesn’t tell me anything. All I know is they’ve been having their little powwows or whatever Vikings call it and then he comes back here and…”

 

“Yeah,” said Darcy, holding up her hand and cutting Jane off. “I get it. He comes back here and you play x-rated Tarzan and Jane. I don’t need the deets on that.”

 

Jane laughed, a genuine, hearty laugh and Darcy laughed with her.

 

“You lucky girl,” said Darcy, almost to herself.

 

“Darcy, please. You know you’re a knock-out. What about that blonde guy? He seems to have a thing for you.”

 

“Who, Fandral?” Darcy rolled her eyes. “I think he’d stick it in a tree if he could.”

 

“Ewww,” said Jane and they laughed some more.

 

Darcy folded her legs up on the bed and made herself more comfortable.

 

“So, seriously,” said Jane, “what have you been up to?”

 

Darcy smoothed her skirt out around her legs. “Frigga’s been teaching me hoodoo or whatever it is they do here,” Darcy snorted, her shoulders shrugging. “It’s silly. She seems to think I have some sort of gift. I mean, c’mon, right?” she said as she looked at Jane. “If I had some sort of second sight wouldn’t I have used it to win the lottery?” She expected Jane to laugh but instead Jane was looking at her curiously.

 

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Darcy started rubbing at her cheeks and forehead in an effort to remove whatever might be making Jane stare at her like that.

 

“No,” said Jane, her tone serious. She took hold of Darcy’s arm to stop her from fidgeting. “Maybe…maybe this is what we were meant for.” She said.

 

Darcy bristled.

 

“No, hear me out. I mean, I can do more here, learn more here, than I ever could have back home. And you, maybe you do have a gift. Something you never would have tapped into back on Earth.”

 

Jane looked down at her lap. “We have to think that way, right?” she said as she looked back up at Darcy. “We have to hang on to something or we’ll go crazy.”

 

 _Easy for you to say_ , thought Darcy. _You have your science and Thor and you look like you fucking belong here. What do I have? A parlor trick? Something for Asgardian birthday parties? I thought, maybe, that I had…_

“I should go,” said Darcy. She stood and smoothed out her skirt.

 

“Darce, I’m sorry,” said Jane.

 

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I just need to stretch my legs.” She smiled weakly down at Jane and then leant over to give her a hug. “I love you,” she whispered to Jane, feeling suddenly very sentimental.

 

“Love you too,” whispered Jane.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Loki stood high on a cliff’s edge staring out at the Great Plain. The sun was setting and it cast a golden hue over the expansive green fields. In the distance smoke rose from hearth fires and if he listened very carefully he could hear the evening drums.

 

He was, of course, not supposed to be here, confined to the palace as he was, but with what had happened to Midgard and the ensuing desperate rush to find the culprit he suspected his absence would not be noted. Not by any of his kin anyway _. Stop_ , he thought. His mind, his carefully crafted intellect and discipline had been failing him of late and it was all due to that _human_. At first it was just a game. He was bored and she was a toy to chase, a child to rile. But then…then she’d listened to him. And she did something that few people had ever done in his lifetime: she’d told him the truth. When he’d told her of his punishment she hadn’t placated him. She did not douse him with kind words nor offer false hope. She had been blunt, to the point, and still, for whatever unfathomable reason, had welcomed him to her bed. He hadn’t slept a wink that night and he could feel the burn of her kiss on his cheek well into the morning.

 

He’d left before she’d risen but like the tide pulled by a moon he never wandered far from her. And so, when she’d cried out he’d heard her and without thinking had rushed back to her quarters. He found her in the antechamber used for washing and only barely registered the fact that she stood there naked, focused instead on what might be causing her pain. When he saw what was distressing her he felt a momentary rush of awe and a pang for something he had never before desired. And when he’d laid his hand on her to take away her pain something else had flared there in its place. A brief and momentary glimpse of how things could be were he to take her and make her his. The images had come unbidden to his mind: Darcy laid out beneath him, her face flushed, her breath ragged, his name on her lips.

 

He pulled his hand away. It smarted and he wrung it against the other, trying to ease the discomfort. He could not bring himself to look her in the eyes, afraid of what he might say or do if he did.

 

As he walked down the hall he wiped his damp hand on his pants over and over again. Anger was bubbling up within him. He passed Darcy’s attendant and snapped at her.

 

“Your _human_ ,” he said disdainfully, “is bleeding.” He motioned to his groin. “I suggest you go attend to her before she sullies our realm any further.” The look of disgust on his face was enough to send her scuttling away from him without so much as a word.

 

Loki stormed off to his quarters growing more and more agitated as he went.

 

_Stupid girl, mortal, I’ve no need, one does not lie with an ant…_

These were all things he muttered under his breath as he went and by the time he reached his room his blood was near boiling. He knocked books off the shelves, used his magic to make the fire in the hearth roar to life and then die down, slammed the doors to his terrace open and shut and open again. He stood there, looking out over the city and realized what he needed to do. He needed to get away. Away from her, away from confinement, away from his meddling _family_. He couldn’t think clearly here among them.

 

And so it was he now stood and watched the city in the distance and breathed in the cool, fresh air and relished the quiet and solitude. He’d spent the last few days traveling the hills and forests, living sometimes as an animal and other times as a man. He practiced his magic freely, conjuring things at will, flexing his muscles as it were. And he thought. He thought long and hard about Darcy Lewis.

 

He’d made a decision and now it was time to return.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Darcy knew the moment he was back. Not because she heard the horses outside stomp and fret. Not because a flurry of guards strode past her towards the stables. Not even because she heard his voice placating the guards. She’d known by the shift in the air, by the way her heart had suddenly beaten faster. Maybe it was the work she’d been doing with Frigga but it was like Darcy was somehow tethered to Loki and his return had plucked a string within her alerting her to his presence.

 

She stood in the hall above the stables near to the entranceway he’d surely come through. She paced and fidgeted taking turns sitting on the window sill and then standing as she tried to look as nonchalant as possible. She heard footfalls on the stairs and sat down again, pretending to look out at the night sky but she couldn’t help herself. As soon as she heard steps in the hall she turned to see.

 

Loki was there, looking a little worse for wear. His clothes were dirty, his hair tousled, but the worst was his face. He wore a look of complete indifference. His eyes fell to her for but a brief moment but in that moment it felt as though he looked right through her, like she was nothing.

 

Darcy’s heart sank.

 

He said nothing, made no move to her. Indeed, did not acknowledge her at all. He passed by soundlessly and Darcy stared after him.

 

She continued to sit, afraid her legs would not carry her if she dared move. It was only when Jane came to fetch her for dinner that she got up. As best she could she smiled and picked at her food. She nodded at what she hoped was the right time to nod when spoken to and folded her napkin neatly on her lap as was expected. Frigga eyed her knowingly and seemed to try to convey sympathy as best she could without words. Darcy simply downed her wine in one big gulp much to Thor’s pleased amusement.

 

The people at the table made small talk but Darcy barely heard a word of it. Inside the last pieces of her were dying. Without realizing it she’d made her allegiance, rested her hope on a man with the heart of a monster and was feeling more foolish by the second. She drained another cup of wine and Jane eyed her warily.

 

As Darcy sat there silently mulling over her own stupidity she grew more and more agitated and finally, fueled by the potent wine, she decided to confront the God of Mischief. She wasn’t even sure if she cared if he struck her down for it. If he was going to be her downfall she was at least going to give him a piece of her mind beforehand.

 

As deftly as she could, which was not very deftly at all, she excused herself from the table and stormed off in search of his bedchamber. Several rooms, one pissed off chamber maid, and a few raised eyebrows later Darcy found herself in front of her own room, winded, and her search for Loki unsuccessful.

 

“Damn it,” she muttered as she leaned against her door. All of the longing she had felt for him had melted into bitter annoyance and she was sure if she laid eyes on him at this exact moment she would clock him without a second thought.

 

With the awkward gait of one intoxicated she pushed open her door using her shoulder and then slammed it shut behind her. She didn’t even care to get undressed. The wine had spread unnatural warmth through her veins that made her sluggish and tired and she found that now that her bed was before her she wanted nothing more than to fall into it and forget everything.

 

She pulled back the sheets and just before collapsing into bed she looked down and noticed something black and shiny. She pulled the sheets back further to reveal a long black snake coiled there.

 

“Very funny,” she said. Frigga had told Darcy of Loki’s penchant for snakes, how he liked to conjure them up and frighten people with them or even on occasion take the shape of one himself.

 

“You know what?” said Darcy. “I don’t even care. I’m tired. I’m going to bed. So you can just slither yourself away before I squish you.” Darcy began to lie down and the snake uncoiled.

 

Before she could finish lying down she felt strong arms haul her away from the bed and toss her aside. A loud voice yell “No!”

 

She looked up and saw Loki standing next to the bed. A green light shot out of his hand and struck the snake, obliterating it. Loki snarled and turned to her. He was in fresh clothes and cleaned up since she’d last seen him. He stalked over to her and grabbed her by her arms.

 

“Must you be such an imbecile?” he said. His voice rang through her bones, shaking her. “You would have died!” There was no warmth, no sign of caring despite his words. Anger seemed to be leeching out from his very pores. His nostrils flared, his eyes were tight, guarded, and his grip on her strong enough to bruise.

 

Darcy’s anger from earlier bubbled to the surface.

 

“What do you care?!” she spat.

 

“I don’t,” he said, his eyes ice, his voice cold.

 

But suddenly his lips were on her, hot and desperate and belying his words and earlier indifference.

 

“I don’t,” he said again between breaths but then his lips were on hers again, his tongue pushed deep within her mouth. His hands moved to her face, their grip still tight, claiming her.

 

“I don’t”, he said. But even he did not believe the lie.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Are you all surviving the release of Thor: The Dark World? I can't tell you how ecstatic I am that it's out. Please feel free to come fangirl with me either here. I'm dying to chat with people about it!
> 
> So I guess you could say with the release of the film that my story is very AU at this point since it won't take into account any of what's happened in the Thor sequel. I will likely use elements of little things here and there from the film but nothing that would be considered a spoiler. If I ever do include a spoiler I'll make sure to include a warning first.
> 
> This chapter is short but my beta and I both felt it worked as a solo scene. Also I would like to note that I did add some stuff after sending this to my beta so any errors remaining are my own. Hopefully she'll tell me if I've messed up and chide me appropriately for not sending my additions to her first. And obviously, or not, this chapter was beta'd by latessitrice because she's awesome like that.
> 
> As always, no copyright infringement intended. I hope you're reading my beta's stories and ofravenwings stories. I've also finally started reading The Thing by becisvolatile. If you want some extra naughty porn with plot I recommend it.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the reads and kudos and comments. I love hearing your thoughts and theories!
> 
> Now pardon me while I go kneel for Loki...

Loki stilled and his gaze drifted to Darcy’s bed. His eyes narrowed and Darcy could tell by the way he stiffened and straightened his posture that the kissing was over, much to her disappointment.

“You cannot stay here,” he said, his hands moving from Darcy’s face to grip her arms. His fingers sank into her soft skin and she had to bite back a whimper.

“Why?” she asked as she followed his stare. The bed was smattered with pieces of the large black snake, little drops of blood and bits of pink flesh dotting the sheets. “I’m not afraid of snakes and I’m sure we can get that cleaned up.”

”Of course you aren’t,” he said with no small amount of sarcasm. Loki rolled his eyes and moved away from her towards the bed. He circled it, his eyes scanning the room as he went, searching for something but Darcy couldn’t comprehend what. He knelt over the bed and sniffed the air. Then he used a candle snuffer on the side table to turn the snake’s body over.

“Seriously. I’m fine,” she protested. “I lived in New Mexico. Land of scorpions, rattlesnakes, and spiders. No biggie.” Darcy shrugged.

Loki sighed and stood straight again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as though he found their conversation to be very taxing.

“This was no ordinary snake, Darcy Lewis.” His stern gaze bore into her. “This one,” he said, looking back at the bed, at the remains lying there, “was designed to kill you. And only you. It would have struck no other.” _And_ , he thought, _it was meant to lay blame on me_. The snake had all of his markings, magical and otherwise. It was a favorite breed that he’d conjured often enough in the palace though with far less deadly intent. It even smelled like him. It might as well have had his signature scrawled across it in his fine script.

He maneuvered back to Darcy, standing only inches from her.

Darcy looked down at the bed and instinctively took a step backwards away from it.

“K…kill me?” she said. Why would anyone want to do that?” She said the last part so quietly that Loki almost didn’t hear her. All the wooziness from the alcohol earlier seemed to drain instantaneously along with the color in her cheeks.

“You will stay with me tonight,” he said. He stood by her side, watching her, as though if he looked hard enough he’d be able to divine the answers he sought merely from her presence.

“Okay,” she said. Her voice sounded hollow and her eyes were fixed on her would be assassin.

“Come,” said Loki. He wrapped one slim hand around the back of her neck and guided her out of her quarters. The door clicked softly behind them and the dim halls cast long shadows on the walls.

Darcy’s gaze wandered all corners of the corridor as they walked. She was full of nervous energy and practically bouncing on her heels as they went. She jumped when she heard laughter from down the hall.

Loki rounded on her and placed his hands upon her shoulders.

“I’ll not let anything happen to you,” he said. His eyes glowed, the flames from the wall sconces reflecting in them. He paused, and then added, “I give you my word.”

Darcy smiled at that, a wicked and knowing grin. “You like me…” she sing-songed. Darcy clearly did not understand the weight of his promise.

“Do not try me, mortal. You are may be trading beds this eve but you will still be lying with a killer.”

Darcy’s eyes grew wide. She swallowed back the lump that formed in her throat.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking her by the arm.

They ascended a set of stairs at the end of the hall they’d arrived in but instead of following them Loki made straight for the wall.

“Um, Loki, mortal here. Can’t walk through walls,” she said. She pulled back futilely as he pulled her forward.

“You can walk through this one,” he said, tugging on her.

Darcy passed through the wall effortlessly and found herself standing before two great doors, each adorned with a giant serpent eating its own tail.

“Whoa,” she said. She turned to look back at where they’d come from. She could see the stairs and the hall they’d just been in but they were murky, as though looking through stained glass.

“How?” she started to ask, her finger pointing at the space they’d just occupied, but Loki cut her off.

“Much in Asgard is an illusion,” he said, by way of explanation. Darcy could detect a faint whiff of bitterness in the statement but wisely chose not to pursue it.

With a flick of his wrist the great doors opened and Loki ushered her in.

The room was vast, much larger on the inside than it appeared outwardly. A fire was raging in the hearth though it was nothing like any fireplace Darcy had ever seen on Midgard. This one looked big enough to roast an elephant in. As she moved through the cavernous room it seemed different things came to light only to disappear again as she walked; she saw bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling and wondered how anyone could even reach that high. There were settees wrapped in velvet and framed in gold; mirrors that seemed to engulf the whole of the room; she saw what looked like a chess board in one corner, and in another was a writing desk carved from dark wood.

In the back was his bed, easily large enough to sleep four people, possibly more. She wondered briefly how many women he’d entertained in that bed but the thought flitted away as quickly as it‘d come. Like the desk, it was carved from dark wood that glowed in the firelight. Four massive posts carved into the shape of wolves’ heads adorned the bed and various fur throws added to the effect. She half wondered if he could call the thing to life if he so wished.

“Nice digs,” she said as she turned to him.

“Sleep,” he said as he pointed at the bed.

“Are you coming with?” she asked with a sly grin.

Loki’s eyes drifted to her mouth. He looked to be considering her proposition but then he fixed his gaze back on her eyes.

“No. You require sleep. I do not.”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” Darcy bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet.

Loki sighed. “I have more important things to tend to.”

“You wound me!” she mocked, pretending to stab a dagger through her heart. She stumbled backwards till her knees hit the bed and then she collapsed onto it.

Loki tilted his head and stared at her.

“You almost die and this is how you react?” he asked, dumbfounded.

Now Darcy sighed. She stared up at the ornate ceiling and watched the shadows flickering there.

“Do you know how many times I’ve almost died?” she asked.

“No.” said Loki, curious.

“I was born two months early. My cord was wrapped around my neck. They had to cut me out of my mother and I was in the hospital for a month before I could go home. When I was fifteen I totaled my father’s car. Wrapped it around a tree and I walked away with hardly a scrape. When I was nineteen I got caught in the crosshairs of a holdup at the local five and dime. I had my nose stuck in Soap Opera Weekly. I didn’t even notice the gun till he pulled the trigger. It jammed. That’s why I started carrying a taser.” Darcy turned her head so she could look at Loki.

“Now my planet’s gone. Everyone I know is dead except Jane. I’m a fluke, Loki. The only reason I’m here is because I just happened to be with Jane when the big guy came down and swooped her away.”

She looked back up at the ceiling.

“So pardon me if I don’t get all melodramatic. Pardon me if I’d rather roll around in these furs with you than dwell on the fact that I’m a dead girl walking.” More quietly she added, “Nobody wants to be a ghost, Loki.”

Loki’s eyes glistened in the darkness and his lip twitched.

“I see you,” he whispered under his breath. He had the sudden urge to go to her, to hold her and explain to her the import of the vow he’d made just minutes before, but he fought those urges and dug his heels into the hard floor beneath his feet.

“What?” she asked as she looked up at him.

“Go to sleep,” he said. “I’ve work to do.” He turned his back on her and went over to his desk.

“You’re no fun,” she whined as she crawled towards the head of the bed and under the furs. 

Loki smirked. 

She could smell him there, musk and leather and sweat, heady and intoxicating. She inhaled deeply, making a show of it.

“Whatever are you doing?” he asked.

“Smelling you,” she said, unabashedly. She plunked her head down into the voluminous pillows face first.

“Goodnight, Loki,” she said after she turned her head to the side. “And thank you.”

Loki merely grunted in acknowledgment. 

He eyed her from where he sat. He admired the way her pale skin shone against the dark furs of his bed. He pretended for a moment, that she was naked beneath them. He imagined her body slick with sweat, her skin heated from the exertion of their lovemaking, her hair sticking to her face. Just the thought of running his tongue along her and tasting her was enough to make him hard but the thought was soon crowded out by another vision, similar in nature but vastly different in tone. In this vision Darcy was lying in bed; pale in death, limp and lifeless, cold, the assassin having had his way with her as it almost had this evening. This vision, though pure imagination, was enough to right the path of his thoughts and dull his desire for her.

He sat up straight, spared Darcy one last glance, and then set to work on finding her would be killer. He would find this person who dared to take what was his, who dared to frame him for the crime, and he would make them pay.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Happy New Year! I promised you guys I wasn't abandoning this and I'm keeping my word. You do have my sincerest apologies at the tardiness of this. I just had a couple of very busy months due to the holidays and whatnot. Hopefully things will get back on track now. This is a short chapter and I apologize for that but I promise there is much more to come. I just wrote this on a whim last night and felt like the end of this chapter was a good place to leave off despite the length. Hopefully you'll agree.
> 
> Beta'd by latessitrice. Any remaining errors are my own. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!

“Darcy, it is time to rise.”

“Mmpfh…”

“It has been daylight for some time now.”

Darcy stretched her hand out from underneath the pillow.

“Cffmph…” she said.

“What?” asked Loki.

Darcy turned her head so that her face wasn’t buried in the pillow.

“Coffee,” she said, flexing her hand for emphasis.

“I don’t know what that is but I am certain we don’t have it.”

Darcy’s hand plopped back down, heavy with sleep.

“Right,” she said. “Asgard. Land of gold and well-muscled men.”

Darcy cracked one eye open. Loki was standing next to the bed in his usual finery. Daylight was streaming in behind him from the balcony and Darcy could just see a faint sort of shimmering, a kind of barrier between his chambers and the deck outside. She flopped over onto her side.

“What I wouldn’t give for a Starbucks right now,” she sighed.

“Are you sufficiently awake that I may trust you to rise on your own?” asked Loki.

“No,” said Darcy. “Come here.”

“Why?” asked Loki, his body stiffening.

“Because,” said Darcy.

“I’ve no time for games, Darcy.”

“Please?” she said. She motioned with her fingers for him to come.

Loki caved under her plea.

“You will be my downfall,” he said as he approached the bed.

“I think you’re perfectly capable of that on your own,” she said. She scooted aside to make room for him on the bed and then patted the space next to her.

Loki paused. He stared at the space on the bed half wondering if he should flee and leave her to her own demise but Darcy grew impatient and tugged him down onto the bed with her.

“You take much liberty with me,” he said to her.

Darcy ignored him and cuddled into his side.

“I’ve killed men for less,” he continued.

“Good thing I’m not a man then,” she replied.

“You think me incapable of taking the life of a woman?”

“I think you like me. And I think this conversation is depressing. Just shut up and enjoy the moment.”

“I have things to do.”

“It can wait five minutes.” Darcy was running her fingers absent mindedly across Loki’s chest. She traced the lines of his armor lazily.

“Someone tried to kill me,” she said.

“Yes.”

“And they tried to frame you.” She traced the serpent pattern on his arm brace as she said this.

“It would seem so.”

“So, I’m just a means to an end maybe?”

Loki looked down at her. He had heard that she was the one who first discovered Thor when he had been banished. And that she had been the one brave enough to take him down. Even in Thor’s mortal state he would have been a formidable adversary. And he also knew that Darcy had been the one to alert Jane right before their planet perished. He suspected there was a lot more to Darcy Lewis of Midgard than just a pretty face and a cunning tongue.

“I must look awful,” Darcy said. She brushed back her hair and turned her face down.

Loki realized he’d been staring at her.

“No,” he said very quietly. “You don’t.”

He got up suddenly in an attempt to fight the urges Darcy inspired in him. He had no time or inclination for such notions right now.

“I’m going to your quarters,” he announced. “You are to remain here while I’m gone. Do you understand?” He stared at Darcy as hard as he could and set his mouth into a thin line.

Darcy nodded. “Uh-huh,” she said.

“You may bathe,” he continued and he made a gesture towards his bathing chamber. “And I will bring you fresh food and clothing.”

“Isn’t that a little beneath you?” Darcy asked. She was propped up on her elbow and her long hair fell down around her.

“Darcy, no one enters these chambers apart from me. Ever.”

Darcy smiled like she’d just won a prize. She lay back down and stretched. “I feel special,” she said as she arched her back.

Loki left without another word and it was one of the most monumentally difficult things he had ever done.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Loki made his way to Darcy’s quarters. By now the bright light of day was shining in the halls and the palace was abuzz with activity. He could smell the bread baking in the kitchens down below, hear the neighing of the horses anxious to be let out to pasture, and passed by guards and staff going about their daily routines.

He thought about the girl lying back in his bed, thought about all the things he’d like to do to her and with her, wondered if he should have just let her die, and with a heavy heart realized he could not. He was well and truly damned and he could see no way out of it.

As he rounded the corner of the hall in which Darcy’s quarters were located he heard a loud banging.

“Darce?” _Bang, bang, bang…_ “Darcy?”

Loki rolled his eyes. 

Jane was standing there knocking on Darcy’s door.

“She’s not there,” said Loki. He didn’t even bother to make eye contact with Jane. He stepped into the space between Jane and the door, effectively pushing her out of the way.

Jane backed up a step. She opened and closed her mouth, unsure of what to say. Despite Thor’s assurances that his brother was on the mend Jane was still very much afraid of Loki.

“W-where is she?” she finally stuttered.

“Safe,” said Loki. “Now, will you would kindly take your leave. I have work to do.”

“Safe from what?” asked Jane. Loki could easily detect the skepticism and hidden accusation in her tone.

He rounded on Jane and took a step towards her so that he was towering over her.  
“I assure you that I mean her no harm,” he said. He smiled at Jane. “I cannot, however, say the same about you.”

Jane backed up and stumbled, tripping over her gown.

“I…uh…” She motioned with her hand behind her. “I’m gonna go,” she said. She turned on her heel and did a half walk half run down the hallway.

Loki smirked and turned his attention back to Darcy’s room.

He stood first, outside her room, and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and let his energy glide out of him slowly, like tendrils reaching for sunlight. He felt along them for anything out of place, searching for energy that didn’t belong to Darcy, and when he found nothing out of the ordinary he opened his eyes and then opened the door.

He could smell the dead snake even from this distance. It had sat there all night and was in the early stages of decomposition. He approached the bed cautiously, stalked around it as he had the previous night, and came to stand on the other side.

“Brother, what has happened?” Thor was standing in the doorway.

Loki nearly snarled. “Nothing that concerns you, Thor. Run back to your little wench.”

Thor ignored him and entered Darcy’s quarters.

“I said get out.” Loki balled his hands into fists, frustrated. 

“Is Darcy well?” Thor persisted.

“She is fine,” replied Loki. He looked back down at the bed and tried to ignore Thor.

“I do not have your talent for detecting lies. Look at me and tell me she is unharmed.”

Loki sighed but he did as Thor asked.

“She is fine,” repeated Loki.

Loki could see Thor’s body relax, like a weight had been lifted from him.

“You favor her,” said Thor.

Loki’s eyes darted back to Thor. “Really, _brother_? You wish to have this talk now?” Loki moved away from the bed and began to pace the room. He pretended to be looking at things as he went.

“It is not a bad thing,” said Thor.

Loki shot a glance at Thor and with three heavy strides returned to the bedside. He swept his arm out in an arc over the carnage of bloodied sheets.  
“Truly?” said Loki astounded. “The girl who lies with serpents clearly has nothing to fear.”

“What happened?” Thor asked again.

“I don’t know,” replied Loki. He looked back down at the bed, his forehead creased, deep in thought. 

_Why did no one see this?_ He wondered to himself. He thought about his mother and about Heimdall. 

_No…it couldn’t be…_

“I have work to do,” he said dismissively to Thor.

“Loki, let me help.”

“What could you possibly do?” asked Loki. “I’m afraid your hammer is no use here. This requires intellect.”

Loki’s words twisted inside of Thor, one of many thorns pricked over many centuries.

Thor stepped towards the door with a resigned look on his face. “I must tell Father. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes. Run and tell Father. It is what you do best. Cower in the shadow of the man whose place you aim to take.”

Thor paused in the doorway. “Perhaps, someday, you will not hate me so.”

Loki snorted.

“I doubt that very much,” he said after Thor had left.

He spent the remainder of the morning fortifying Darcy’s rooms, placing magical safeguards around every possible entry and exit he could think of right down to the hearth and even the plumbing in the bathing chamber. From now on, if anyone besides he or Darcy tried to enter they would receive quite the shock, not to mention an indelible mark that only Loki would be able to see. He then burnt the remains of the snake along with Darcy’s sheets. 

Satisfied that she could safely return he set off for the kitchens and made it a point to speak to one of the guards along the way. The man had looked at him funny, seeing as Loki had a woman’s dress draped over one shoulder, but any amusement he felt vanished quickly when Loki threatened his family which is exactly why he had chosen this particular guard. He was young, comparatively, and it was easy for Loki to see the truth in the man’s heart: that he was more afraid of Loki than he was of Odin. _Fool_ , thought Loki, but a fool that would work to his advantage. 

By the time he returned to his quarters he was juggling a pitcher of milk, a loaf of bread, and a plate of cheeses, along with Darcy’s dress. He nearly dropped all of them when he saw her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my beta latessitrice for getting this back to me so quickly. I can't promise an update every day as life just gets too hectic for that but I am going to try to do more frequent updates now. And don't kill me after you read this. I'm in this story for the long haul. There is MUCH more to come and it will have lots of ups and downs.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for all the wonderful comments and for leaving kudos. I do hope you enjoy and as always I would love to hear your thoughts.

Darcy stood at the entrance to Loki’s balcony, draped only in one of Loki’s bed sheets. It hung loose around her body, her back exposed, and the ample curve of one breast just peeking out the side. Her hair hung in damp down rivulets around her face. She was as pale as he, made starkly more so by the deep verdant green of the silk wrapped around her.

Loki had seen many beautiful sights during his long life: nebulae and galaxies bursting with vibrant color, the vivid red of the blood of enemies flowing freely in battle, whole planets born of ice and fire. But in that moment he felt each and every one of them pale. He went to his desk and placed the items he’d been carrying down, all without saying a word. He approached Darcy slowly, as though she might disappear, a mere figment of his imagination, if he moved too quickly. 

When he reached her she turned to him and smiled brightly.

“Hey,” she said.

Loki swallowed.

A bead of water dripped down one slim shoulder and without thinking Loki leaned down and licked it from her skin. She tasted clean. _Too clean_ , he thought, _too innocent…_

He closed his eyes and whispered, “This cannot be…”

Just then there was a knock on his door, loud and insistent. Loki spun round and placed himself in front of Darcy in a protective stance. _Impossible_ , he thought.

Before he could even say anything the doors burst open and there stood Odin with an entourage of guards. Some of them were holding what looked to be chains and shackles.

Loki took a step back, a look of shock on his face.

Odin crossed the threshold. He paused and looked at the doorway, scanning the frame and hardware. When his gaze returned to Loki it was smug and knowing. 

“Loki Laufeyson, under penalty of breach of the conditions of your release and the attempted murder of our guest,” Odin’s eyes flickered to Darcy. “You are hereby ordered to return to Asgard’s dungeons for the remainder of your sentence.”

“What? No!” said Darcy. She began to edge her way around Loki but was cut short by the thundering crack of Odin’s spear hitting the hard floor.

“Silence!” screamed Odin.

“You have brought shame on the House of Odin,” he continued. “I will no longer play the fool in your charades.”

Odin waved his hand at the guards and they entered, one by one, with ease, for Odin had undone Loki’s magic that protected his chambers. They surrounded Loki in a half circle and he moved away from Darcy so she would not be harmed. As soon as she was clear they were on him, wrapping him in chains and cuffs.

Darcy stood there wide eyed, watching. She pulled the sheet tight around her and tried to cover herself as best she could. Her heart beat wildly in her chest and she felt the first pricking of tears sting her eyes.

As the guards guided him past Odin and out of the room Loki finally spoke up.

“She isn’t safe,” he said to Odin. “You must protect her!”

Odin ignored him and eyed Darcy instead. She stood there trembling and backed up when she saw Odin staring at her.

When the room was clear of all but the two of them, Darcy’s attendant entered the room. She looked around warily as though she didn’t fully trust being in Loki’s quarters even with the All-Father there.

“Once you are more properly attired,” said Odin as he looked Darcy up and down, “I would speak with you privately.” He did not wait for a reply. He turned on his heel and left Darcy there with Aetta.

“What just happened?” asked Darcy. Her voice trembled and her gaze rested on the place Odin had just stood. She looked to her right, at Loki’s bed with its rumpled throws and furs. Her mind ran around the events of the last twenty-four hours: the snake, the kissing, Loki’s vow, and now this. She tried to piece it all together but it was like a clock with broken gears grinding together. It just didn’t make sense.

She felt Aetta place something in her hand and looked down to see the dress Loki had chosen for her. 

A green dress.

Darcy burst into tears. “What just happened?!” she screamed at Aetta, at no one, at everyone. 

“There, there,” said Aetta as she patted Darcy on the arm. “You get dressed now. You mustn’t keep the All-Father waiting.”

“ _Screw_ the All-Father!” Darcy yelled.

Aetta tsked. “You’ll end up with your mouth sewn shut if you talk like that.” She turned Darcy round and pushed her towards the bathing chamber. “Now go. Get dressed.”

Darcy went reluctantly. Each step felt leaden to her, as though with each pace Loki was somehow pushed farther and farther into her past, never to be seen again. In its way, for her, it was like losing Earth all over again. All the pain and grief she’d managed to tamp down over the past few weeks was suddenly bubbling back to the surface and threatening to spill over.

She let the silken sheet spill down around her onto the floor. She looked around his bathing chamber and tried to commit it to memory. It was, like his room, massive. It had its own balcony and a bath the size of a small pool. There were torches all along the walls though at this time of day they stood unlit. Darcy had wondered idly, while bathing just a short time ago, how the room would look at night. She’d imagined the yellow glow from the flames dancing off the walls and casting long shadows. She’d wondered about the view, wondered if you could see the stars while sitting in the warm water. She had, of course, thought of Loki; thought of all the times he’d been there before her in this very space, hair slicked back, towel hung low. She’d wondered if he relished baths the way she did or if it was merely a necessary task that he took no pleasure in.

She thought now that she may never know. For if Odin was true to his word and Loki under lock and key for the full duration of his sentence, she knew full well she would be nothing more than a pile of dust by the time he got out. A forgotten memory buried deep in a corner of his mind.

Aetta knocked on the door and urged Darcy to make haste, startling Darcy in the process.

Darcy dressed as quickly as she could and when she was done she looked around for anything resembling a tissue. When she found nothing she said “Fuck it,” and wiped her nose on her sleeve. As it was, she was about ready to tell Odin to sit and spin despite Aetta’s warning.

“Let’s get this over with,” she said to Aetta when she emerged. The older woman looked at her and shook her head but said nothing as they exited Loki’s chambers.

A guard met them in the hall and walked behind them as they made their way to Odin. Darcy’s stomach grumbled as they walked. She hadn’t eaten anything since supper the night before, and even then had drunk more wine than consumed food. She placed a hand over her stomach in an attempt to quiet it but Aetta looked at her knowingly.

When they entered the Great Hall Darcy saw that the throne was empty and indeed, they were ushered right past it and up a set of stairs in the back. There she entered a room that was still vast though nowhere near as vast as the hall. There was a hearth with a roaring fire; tapestries hung on the walls and Darcy briefly wondered if they had been woven by the Queen herself, and in the center was a long table with chairs all around. There were no windows in the room and giant candelabras hung from the high ceiling. 

When she turned around to speak to Aetta she saw that she was alone and that the door had been shut behind her. Then, she felt a shift in the air, the hair at the nape of her neck stood suddenly at attention, and she knew without even having to look that Odin was there in the room with her.

There had been so many things she’d wanted to say to him, most of them quite unkind, but she found herself frozen in place, like some sort of basic instinct within her protecting her from acting foolishly in the presence of a god that could so easily smite her.

“You keep strange company,” she finally heard him say.

Darcy only nodded, unsure of what to say.

“Tell me what happened,” he commanded.

“Nothing…we didn’t…you know…” Darcy began to stumble over her words and say them without thinking, a bad habit when she got nervous. She shrugged. “I mean…I like him…he’s hot…not like Thor hot but…”

She heard a chair slide out, its legs making a sound like nails against chalkboard. Darcy turned and saw Odin sit. He looked weary.

“Oh, God,” she said. Her cheeks grew hot. “That’s not what you meant.”

“No,” he said with a sigh. “It is not.”

Darcy, emboldened by his informal air, sat in a chair at the opposite end of the table as him.

“I don’t know what happened,” she said. She placed her hands on the table and examined them as though they might hold an answer.

“I was a little tipsy,” she admitted. “I went back to my room after dinner. I started to climb into bed and then boom! Loki was there.”

“He saved me,” she said, daring a glance at him.

Odin said nothing for what seemed like the longest minute of Darcy’s life.

“It was a snake, was it not?” He said.

“Yes,” Darcy nodded.

“He was always fond of snakes.” Odin seemed to be saying this more to himself than her.

Darcy protested. “It wasn’t like that. He didn’t do this. He wouldn’t.”

Odin rose from his seat and Darcy could practically feel the anger crackling off of him.

“And you know this?” His voice boomed off the walls and ricocheted around the room. “You know him so well after such a short time?” he challenged. 

“I…I…” Darcy stuttered.

“You are a blink of an eye to one such as myself, Midgardian. You would do well to remember that.” 

Odin turned to leave.

Darcy stood abruptly, knocking her chair back. “He didn’t do this!” she shouted. But Odin ignored her. He left through a door in the back and Darcy heard it click shut with a finality that almost made her fall to the floor.

A moment later and the guard entered the room and escorted her out. She followed him blindly through the halls, not even aware that Aetta was no longer with her. By now it was mid-afternoon. She could just see the shift in light from bright day to the more subtle shades of early evening, but the colors seemed muted to her somehow, as though they’d lost their luster. The same went for all her other senses. The sounds of men clashing swords and children playing reached her as though her head were under water, murky and dull. The smell of the food from the kitchens made her stomach churn and burned her nostrils. This world, so famed for its beauty, suddenly felt like it was decaying all around her.

She had been stripped of the one thing that had given her hope, the one thing that had given her a shred of sanity in her crazy life. She realized that without that tether, without that anchor to moor her when her emotions turned like a raging sea, she would be lost. And she knew too, knew it in her bones, that Loki would never harm her. Someone else had tried to kill her and now that Loki was gone her life was forfeit. 

All of her diminished senses: the dimming light, the dulled sounds, the foul scent of food; that wasn’t Asgard dying, it was her. Darcy Lewis was a dead girl walking.

It was just a matter of time before it happened.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have to give a disclaimer right off the bat that I had to use the internet for some language translating and for all I know I've ended up with complete gibberish. If you speak Icelandic please feel free to correct me.
> 
> Thanks to latessitrice (my beta) for getting this back to me so quickly. I'm sorry for being a c*ck block in the previous chapter. I promise we'll get there eventually. There's just going to be a lot of twists and turns along the way.
> 
> And thank you so much to all of you reading this and leaving kudos and comments. Your enthusiasm is truly encouraging and inspiring and I'm so touched that so many people seem to be enjoying this story.
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think!

That night Darcy sat in front of the hearth in her room. The fire in it burned strong, roaring and crackling and casting long shadows on the walls. She could smell the resin from the logs and feel the heat of the flames on her skin. All was quiet that night; there was no laughter, no music. She did not even hear the beating of the evening drums. She sat there numb, seemingly unable to shed any tears, as though she’d used them all up in the weeks prior. Something was sliding within her, shifting, like tectonic plates. She was the calm before the storm.

As she had done during that first week on Asgard, Darcy had her last Earthly possessions laid out before her. The contents of her purse were lined up in row after row, _not unlike tombstones_ , she thought. She picked up her iPod first. Her precious iPod that she’d finally regained from Phil Coulson after much begging: Phil, who was well and truly dead now. She turned it over in her hands; felt the weight and heft of it and saw her fingerprints smeared across its screen. She’d tried listening to it a few sparing times since arriving on Asgard but it’d always made her sad. Now it just made her angry.

She got up on her knees and hurled it into the fire, grunting with the exertion. She heard it crack when it collided with the stone and then once it landed among the huge logs there was a burst of flame as it caught fire, followed by an awful stench. Next was her cell phone, useless without a signal. She couldn’t even torture herself with listening to old voicemails. She threw that into the fire too. Then there were the sundry items from her purse: the gum, hairbrush, and hotel key cards, lip gloss, and so on. She’d finished off her flask of rum ages ago. All of it went into the fire.

She saved her wallet for last. It wasn’t anything fancy; just a little brown number with some flowers on it. She’d had it since high school and it was stuffed to the gills with minutiae from her life. There were movie ticket stubs, a frequent buyer card from her local coffee shop, old photos of her parents; a pocket cross her grandmother had given her, and even some cash and an old receipt.

She pulled out a Chinese cookie fortune, its edges worn and frayed: _Be careful or you may fall for some tricks today_ , it read. Darcy laughed. “Fall for a trickster, is more like it,” she said. She tucked the fortune back into her wallet and folded the whole thing closed. With a sigh she rose and walked to the hearth. She stood there for a moment, turning the wallet over in her hands, wondering if she was being too impulsive, if she’d regret her decision to expunge her old life but then she thought of Loki. She thought of him in his cell for a crime he didn’t commit, thought of how she’d almost lost her life again, for the umpteenth time it seemed. She tried to envision her future, tried to imagine a life on Asgard as a mortal, always out of place, most definitely out of time. She saw nothing. It was all a swirl of colors in her mind, like paints spilled into each other and unable to form a picture, instead becoming muddied and blurred.

She heard a knock on her door. It startled her. She looked up and threw the wallet into the fire before going to see who was there.

Jane stood in the hall looking haggard and unkempt. Her eyes were rimmed in red as though she’d been crying.

“Darce,” she said, her head tilting to the side. She tried to enter but felt a shock when she did so. “Ow!” she exclaimed as she stepped back.

Darcy looked up at the door frame.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice distant and far too placid. “Loki must have magicked it.” She stepped out into the hall so she could stand with her friend.

“Yeah, well…” said Jane as she rubbed her injured hand. “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Darcy leaned with her back against the wall and chin tilted up as though she were examining something really interesting on the ceiling. “Oh?” was all she said in reply.

“Look,” said Jane as she took a step closer to Darcy. “We’ve been through a lot. I get that. But…Loki? Seriously?” asked Jane.

Darcy turned to look at Jane. She took in her appearance: her swollen eyelids, puffy cheeks, and wrinkled clothes.

“You fought with him,” said Darcy. 

“Who? Loki? Don’t be ridiculous,” said Jane, not understanding what Darcy meant.

“No,” said Darcy. “You fought with Thor.” She shook her head. “His own brother believes in him and you have the balls to come here and…and what? Try to talk some sense into me?” Darcy swept her arm out to the side, her anger growing.

Jane took a step back. “I’m sorry,” she said. She looked down at her feet and then back up at Darcy. “I’m just worried about you.”

Darcy sighed. “I know,” she said. She took a step towards Jane but this time she stretched her arms out and embraced her. Jane was stiff at first but then she warmed into the hug and wrapped her arms around Darcy in return.

“How did we ever end up like this?” whispered Jane.

“I don’t know,” said Darcy. “But I’m going to find out.”

Jane pulled out of the embrace. “How?” she asked.

“The same way as you,” she said. “Science.”

Jane looked at her quizzically. “But, I don’t have a lab. I don’t have any equipment.” Jane began to pace. “I mean maybe we could make some. But it might take years. And we might not have years.” By now Jane’s hands were gesticulating wildly and she’d nearly forgotten that Darcy was standing there.

“Whoa,” said Darcy. She held a hand out in front of Jane to stop her from pacing. “Slow down there science girl.” She held up the first two fingers of her right hand. “Two kinds of science, remember?”

Jane just looked at her, not comprehending.

“Science is magic and magic is science. At least, that’s what Thor said.”

Jane still just stared at her.

“Look, you’re just going to have to trust me on this. There are other ways we can find out what’s going on.”

“She is right,” Darcy heard a voice behind her say. She turned and saw Frigga standing there. Without thinking, Darcy rushed to her and threw her arms around the woman. 

“How is he? Is he okay?” she asked, after she’d pulled back.

“I know not,” said Frigga, her expression sad and kind. “My dear girl,” she said as she pushed back Darcy’s hair, “I assure you I will be exchanging words with my husband this eve.” She glanced to Jane.

“Do not judge Thor too harshly,” she said to Jane. “He loves his brother and only wants what’s best for him.”

Frigga looked back down at Darcy and smiled. “It seems the House of Odin has raised sons with a penchant for mortal girls. You’ll both send Odin to his grave and make me a widow if you’re not careful.” Though her tone was light Darcy caught a hint of fear in her voice. 

Jane looked down at her feet again, her cheeks reddening. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“Nonsense,” said Frigga with a wave of her hand. She took a step towards Jane so that she was standing between the two girls. She looked from one to the other. “You each, in turn, make my sons happy. That is all I wish for as a mother. Politics be damned.”

Darcy balked. “I don’t make him happy. I annoy him.”

“Loki has not felt true happiness in quite some time. He has forgotten how to experience it with grace and for that I apologize. Besides,” she added, “If you truly annoyed him you probably would not be standing here now. Not in one piece anyway.” Darcy looked to Jane. For a moment both girls looked shocked but then Darcy couldn’t help herself. She laughed and soon Jane was laughing with her. Frigga smiled though it did not reach her eyes.

When they’d quieted down Jane spoke up. “So is it true? Can we use magic to find out what happened to Earth? And who’s after Darcy?”

“It’s not so easy as that, I’m afraid,” said Frigga. “We can use magic to set traps, as I see my son has done,” she nodded to Darcy’s doorway, “we can look to the future but the future is never quite set in stone. It changes as things in our everyday lives change. Looking to the past is more difficult. It’s like trying to discern what kind of kindling was used after the fire is nothing but ash. Not impossible, but not easy.”

“But I have faith,” she said as she turned back to the girls. “Darcy is very talented,” she said to Jane. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Now,” said the Queen, “I must take my leave. Darcy,” she said. “Will you come see me tomorrow? I will be most eager to speak with you.”

Darcy nodded yes.

“Jane,” Frigga nodded. She turned and walked down the hall away from them and it was only then that Darcy and Jane saw the guards following her, ever present yet unobtrusive.

“Wow,” said Jane. “So, like, you and the Queen? You’re friends?”

Darcy shrugged. “Only because of Loki. Otherwise I doubt she’d give me the time of day.”

“Still,” said Jane. “Wow.” Jane’s face soured.

“What?” asked Darcy.

Jane sighed. “Odin doesn’t approve. Of Thor and I.” Jane clarified.

“Odin’s an ass,” said Darcy.

Jane laughed. “Maybe. But we can’t get married without his blessing.”

The word twisted inside of Darcy. _Marriage_. It was something she was sure she’d never have now.

“It’ll work out,” said Darcy. “Maybe he’ll drop dead or something.”

“Darcy!” Jane exclaimed.

“Oh, like you haven’t thought it.” replied Darcy. “Anyway, I’m gonna go lie down. It’s been a long day.”

“Huh.” said Jane.

“Huh?” repeated Darcy.

“You have a shadow,” said Jane, nodding behind Darcy.

Darcy turned and saw a guard standing at the end of the hall. He reminded her of those guards at that palace in England, the ones that aren’t allowed to speak or move. He stood with his back to the wall and his gaze fixed rigidly forward, chin jutting out. 

“Oi!” yelled Darcy in an exaggerated Australian accent.

The guard said nothing. Darcy looked around for something to throw at him but found nothing. She took off one shoe and chucked it at him. He did not react. She walked over to retrieve her shoe and waved her hand in front of his face which still garnered no reaction.

“Huh is right,” said Darcy. She hobbled back on one foot as she tried to put her shoe back on and nearly fell twice.

“I’m guessing he’s not Odin’s doing,” said Darcy when she reached Jane. “Whatever. At least someone’s taking this seriously.”

“Maybe you should stay with me tonight,” suggested Jane while looking at the guard.

“No. It’s fine. I’m fine. My room’s all magicked up and I’ve got Fido down there” she pointed towards the guard. “Go back to Thor. Tell him you’re sorry. Have some make up sex.”

Jane blushed. “Are you sure?” she asked.

“Positive,” said Darcy. She placed a hand on Jane’s shoulder and guided her away. “Now go.” She kissed Jane on her temple. “We’ll chat tomorrow.

“K’” said Jane with a weak smile. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” said Darcy with a wave.

She turned to make sure the guard was still there and then went back into her room. Once the door was shut she sighed heavily and leaned back against it. She looked around her room, her new home, and it felt empty to her. Sleep felt like a daunting task. The quiet Asgard night felt hollow without the promise of Loki’s presence.

She pushed off from the door and added another log to the fire. It crackled and spit and the flames grew higher. Her gaze was drawn to the long shadows the flames cast. They reached up along the walls and crawled across her ceiling. It gave her an idea.

Darcy walked over to her bed and kicked off her shoes. She didn’t bother to get undressed. She climbed in and lay atop the covers with her arms resting at her sides. She drew in deep breaths to calm her body and quiet her mind. She imagined all the tension from the day flowing out of her with each exhalation. As she did this she let her eyes focus on the shadows that danced on the ceiling above her bed. Then she let them unfocus, as Frigga had been teaching her.

She didn’t know at what point she’d slipped from meditation to actual sleep but that night she dreamed. She dreamed of three great birds whose wings enveloped her; one red, one gold, and one black as pitch. The birds cawed and squawked and flapped their wings. From between their feathers she saw flashes of scenery: a forest of frozen trees, a great hall gleaming in bright sunlight, and a place so dark and shadowed that her breath grew cold and her body shivered just from the sight of it.

Then the birds flew away, and she saw a man on a hill some distance from her. He had dark skin and wielded a large sword. And though she could barely make him out she felt as though his eyes bore straight into her, that he could see into her very heart. Somewhere in the distance she heard a song playing. Notes carried on the wind to her, haunting and strange. When she woke she found that she was singing in a language she didn’t know.

_Og ég sá, og sjá: Bleikur hestur, og nafn hans sem á honum sat var Death, og helvíti eftir með honum..._

_I know this_ , she thought.

“And…And I saw…I looked…”

 _Shit_ , she thought. _What is it?_

She hummed the tune until it began to take shape, forming into something recognizable.

“Oh, shit,” she said, sitting upright.

_And I looked, and behold a pale horse, and his name that sat on him was Death, and hell followed with him._

Darcy had dreamed about death. And it was coming.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers, old and new alike. I am guessing many of you thought this story had been abandoned and I'll admit, for a time, I did too. But here we are. Life ebbs and flows. Things change while others stay the same. My depression will always be a constant battle but certain of my circumstances have changed which in turn has given me more free time to write. So here we are. 
> 
> If you are an old reader willing to return you have my thanks. If you are a new reader, welcome. I hope you enjoy your stay. I completely understand that people may have forgotten what has happened and can not/do not want to take the time to go back and read the previous chapters. So here is a quick recap:
> 
> Earth has been destroyed and Jane and Darcy are the only survivors. They were whisked away in the nick of time to Asgard. How Earth was destroyed remains a mystery that they are trying to solve. In the meantime, Loki and Darcy have developed a kinship, which in turn, has caused problems and upset. And amidst all this someone tried to assassinate Darcy though who has not yet been revealed. However, Odin, in all his glorious wisdom (sarcasm), has locked up Loki believing him to be the one that tried to kill Darcy. This chapter takes place a few days after Loki's incarceration. No one has been allowed to see him. Not Darcy, nor Thor, nor even his mother.
> 
> I hope that's enough of a recap but if you have any questions just let me know. And as usual, no copyright infringement is intended. I do not own these characters. I just love them. Let me know what you think and I do hope you enjoy.
> 
> And as always, a very special thank you to my beta latessitrice. Who knew that one silly little tentative message on FFnet way back when would lead to all of this.

_Before..._

The young man stood on the hilltop looking over the land he called home. Dark clouds swirled above him and he could hear the wind twisting the leaves of the great oak tree, feel it ruffling his fair hair and sliding along his skin like supple leather. The air smelled metallic, biting sharp on his tongue, telling him that rain was coming soon.

 _Perfect_ , he thought.

He closed his eyes and held out his right hand loosely.

_Forged from a star, eons ago. This is more than a weapon of might, my son. More than just the rage and power of thunder and lightning. It knows the heart of every living thing. And when you are ready, when you are worthy, it shall come to you._

His fingers flexed ever so slightly in anticipation. He was certain today would be the day. As certain of this as he was of his seat upon the throne. He was nearly a man now, though in mortal years he still looked but a boy. He'd gone to war already, albeit just local skirmishes, but still. Surely the Mighty Hammer would find him worthy on this day of days, the day of his birth. Such celebration there would be! Such pride on his father's face!

He waited, fingers outstretched, calling to the weapon that had nearly once destroyed Midgard on its day of inception, millions of years past. He waited, as the first fat drops of rain came down from the sky, _plunk_ , _plunk_ , _plunk_ , till they came faster and faster and soon he was soaked through and anxious.

One eye peeked open and scanned the horizon but all was still aside from the wind and the rain and the darkening skies.

"Donkey's arse," He let his hand fall to his side, shoulders slumping while he trudged back home heavy hearted.

Still, there WERE celebrations that night, for he was, after all, the favored son and it was his day of birth. There were honey cakes and roasted pigs and all manner of bread and wine and ale passed round; and the young man filled himself aplenty till he felt fat and his fingers were slippery with grease and his lips sweet with honey and ale.

People came from all over the land bearing gifts small and large, both lush and humble; and even those who could not make the trek celebrated in their villages, lighting fires and singing songs and lying with each other after the children had drifted off to sleep.

Even the young man, whose day of days it was, took a shine to a young lass late that eve, out of sight of his father's watchful eyes; took her into a closet, young hands fumbling, young girl blushing. And when he'd pushed into her, clumsy and awkward and careless of her needs, she'd cried out his name, both a warning and a benediction.

His name, meaning thunder. He, of the storms. He, of lightning. God of War.

His name, Thor.

 

_Now…_

Thor paced his quarters in solitude, the scent of his lover still on his skin. They'd made up from their previous fight, careful and slow in their lovemaking, and then Jane had turned her focus to what she knew best: data and statistics. She was currently getting a crash course in Asgardian tech, accompanied, of course, by a small entourage of guards. Just in case.

In the time since then Darcy had asked the impossible of him. She was becoming cunning, that one, unafraid to slip a metaphorical knife between the layers of his armor.

_You owe me. This is your fault. You were supposed to protect Earth._

Another time, another situation, he might have felt angered by her words, might have countered them with his own sharp tongue, but not this time. Not this time because he could see. He could see in her eyes that what drove her was worry for the man she loved and truth be told, if anyone had ever dared take the mortal, Jane Foster, from him, he knew he'd tear down all of Asgard to get her back. Hel, he'd tear all the Nine to shreds if that's what it took, lineage and responsibilities be damned.

So now he paced, scheming, trying to think of a way to sneak Darcy in to see his wayward brother when even he, the future king, was not allowed passage. He knew only that Loki was in the cells below. What state he was in, Thor knew not, but given what he knew of his father… well, it made him shudder.

"If only I'd been able to speak with him," Thor said to himself. "He has secret passages all over this place."

"I think I can help with that," came a woman's voice.

Frigga stood in the doorway, eyes tired but stature elegant as always, gold dress billowing around her. The door clicked shut behind her as she moved into the room and to her son, whom she embraced.

"Thor," she said, cupping his face in her hands; and for a moment they were just mother and son looking upon each other with love, not queen and warrior, not shadowed by all that had befallen them.

A flicker of doubt seemed to slide across his face. "Are you certain?" he asked. "About Loki. That he…" _That he did not do this. Tell me he did not do this._

Frigga patted his face once and looked upon him as though he were a child struggling with an exceptionally easy mathematical problem.

She moved away from him and sat on one of the nearby couches, patting the space beside her. Once he was seated she continued.

"Did you know," she said, hands folded in her lap, gaze distant as she reached back in time to a long held memory, "that Loki cried the night Mjolnir finally came to you."

She spared a glance at Thor. "It's true," she said in response to his shocked expression. "I caught him once, on his balcony, arm outstretched. He was so deeply concentrating that he did not take notice of me."

 

_Before…_

She stood and watched her child, HER child - blood or not - as he stood there on the balcony, sun illuminating his pale skin, so pale that others often thought him ill. He was gaunt, even then, and it stood more starkly in comparison when he played side by side with young strapping Thor; or when they walked the great halls with their father, her husband, who even in his youth had never been a slim man.

She watched as his slender fingers flexed, as small beads of sweat formed on his skin under the noonday heat, as his lip curled in frustration, oblivious to her presence. She saw too, the moment he gave up, the anger that flashed within him, nearly felt his rage as a palpable thing. She wanted so badly to go to him and to tell him that his own time and glory would come but found her hand staid by her duty as a king's wife. She was bound, as queen, to raise her children in such a manner as to befit royalty. In the Halls of Odin that meant they must learn to fail before they could succeed.

So she slipped away that day, unannounced, and listened to the sounds of a child's temper tantrum fading with each step she took.

It was the year following that had seen a change in Loki. Saw him form like forged steel, a blade sharp and cruel, immutable, except by fire.

Loki had sprouted like a quick growing vine that year, had sprung nearly six feet tall, all sinew and lean muscle and features growing fine and angular. He was quiet even then, prone to books and studies and nary an eye spared for the young women of Asgard. There was a time, short as it was, where Frigga had wondered if perhaps her adopted son had other proclivities but it was a short lived notion, eclipsed by more serious concerns.

Despite his solitary nature he was often found to be testing his mettle alongside Thor, eager to make his mark. What he lacked in brute strength he made up for in cunning, often winning sparring matches by studying his opponent and learning their weaknesses. But even then she could see him focusing on his failures more often than on his successes. That he could not wield an ax with the same strength and precision as his brother ate at him, never mind that he could wield a knife faster than their eyes could track.

In all things, he compared himself to Thor. Thor, who so often loudly boasted of his future as King of Asgard; who spoke proudly of how one day soon Mjolnir would come to him; who laughed and smiled brightly at the ladies of the court, wondering which of them would be his queen.

Frigga saw it all; saw the shadows slip across Loki's face when Thor spoke so surely of his future upon the throne, saw Loki's brow knit together when he took aim with an ax and failed to meet his mark; watched as Thor pushed him towards a servant girl despite Loki's protests.

She watched and she did nothing, trusting in her husband when he assured her it would work itself out, that boys were boys and Loki would find his place.

She watched, too, the night Thor came home caked in mud and streaks of drying blood, wielding the Hammer forged from star stuff. He'd held it high and cried out in victory, face beaming, smiling the smile of a golden child turned man. All of the palace had cheered with him that night. All but Loki, who had trudged in after him, just as dirty, just as victorious, and yet clear as day that victory did not reach his eyes, though she felt sure no one else had noticed. They were all too caught up in the fervor of Thor's might, for surely Mjolnir in his hand assured his seat upon the throne. It was all but writ in stone now.

Later, as the festivities wound down and the stars traveled their path up in the sky, she had sought out her raven haired child, who had somehow, over time, slid into a special pocket in her heart; whom she wanted to protect and coddle from the pains of their world and their way of life. Mayhap because of his beginnings, beginnings they were not allowed to speak of, beginnings not even Thor knew. Left to die, heir apparent, denied. She wondered if somehow he knew, if some remote infant memory had survived, had left him with a longing in his heart that could never be filled. For despite all his best intentions she knew that Loki would never sit in Odin's place, knew her husband, merciful as he was, would never allow a _blue skinned bastard_ to rule his kingdom.

She found him near dawn in the Vault, stood before the empty space that had housed Mjolnir.

"I'm worthy," she heard him whisper, voice already hoarse from crying. She could see the tears streaking his face even in the dim light.

She moved towards him then, taking sure even strides across the gleaming marble, politics of raising boys all but forgotten. He turned in kind, as though he'd known all along that she'd been there.

"He told me I was worthy."

In all his years she'd never seen such pain on his face, pain as though his whole life had just fallen out from under him, pain like that which comes with death.

"You are worthy," she'd said as she wrapped her arms around him. "You are."

She'd held him, she didn’t know for how long. Till he stopped shaking. Till he had no more tears. Till his body went slack against hers. And all the while a kernel of resentment wound its way inside of her, tipping the scales so that she did the one thing a mother should never do: choose a side. That night, subconscious as it was, she chose Loki. Chose to protect him. Chose to champion him. Chose to love him just that little bit more.

When he pulled free from her embrace his façade had changed. Gone were the tears and the anguish and the youthful frustration. In their stead was a placid expression, flat as glass, still as water before a storm; all but his eyes, which reminded her of the ice from which he came, cold and sharp as a razor, ready to cut if one weren't careful.

It was later that same day that he'd come to her and asked her to teach him magic, and like a good mother, she had obliged. Never mind that it was women's work. Never mind the protests from her bellowing husband. Never mind the barbed jibes from Thor and his friends cast always with a smile and laughter.  She taught him, and she taught him well.

In the years that followed she saw him settle into a pattern. He fought alongside his brother and The Warriors Three. He made eyes at Sif and visited the taverns after battle with the men, drinking and making merry and lying between the legs of the girls who'd have him. In the palace he used his magic for mirth, sat at the great table and dined with the rest of them, toasting and tossing goblets into the hearth with glee.

And if, at times, she saw him sneak off into the night, shedding his Asgard form and trading it for a wolf or a bird or a snake, only to return days later without a word, she thought not too much on it. Or when Thor had declared his intentions for Sif, had asked Father his blessing, and she had seen what could have been a brief flash of hatred: the narrowing of eyes, the thin line of lips pursed, mar Loki's perfect features, she had not thought too much on that either, for wasn't it normal, mundane even, for men to fight over women?

No, she thought not too much on it at all, for all seemed well in the House of Odin. Her husband had settled into an aging grace, her blood child stood to rule the kingdom, and Loki, the child of her heart, smiled and laughed, content, she thought, to serve at Thor's side. At least, it seemed that way, so long as you chose to look at it one way, and not the other, which is exactly what she did.

 

_Now…_

"So you see," she said, "this is as much my fault, as much my burden to bear, as it is Loki's or yours or your father's." Her body slumped then, as though the weight of all those years were finally catching up with her.

"You look tired," Thor commented, voice thoughtful, but Frigga laughed by way of reply, and waved her hand dismissively.

"Your father may have the benefit of the Great Sleep," she said, "but I do not."

She smiled weakly. "I am tired, son."

The fire snapped and sparked and its flames reflected in her eyes.

"Now, about Darcy," she continued, straightening her posture. "I know a way she can see him."

She rose as she spoke. "It is not without some risk. If your father catches us…"

"This is not your fault," Thor interjected, grasping her hand as he rose too. "What Father did…"

"What your father did is what happens in war. You know that." She patted his hand before slipping out of his grip.

"I will tend to Darcy," she said before he could argue. "You," she paused, took a deep breath, "You find who threatens us now."

Thor watched as his mother left the room, the weight of her words hanging in the air like the smell of burnt flesh.

_You find who threatens us now._

Because it was always something, always someone. The safety of the Nine had been laid upon their hands by the World Tree eons before his blood had ever flowed in his veins, and with such great power and great responsibility had come the gaze and envy of all who desired such things. Many wars had been fought in the beginning, and many lives lost. But in the end Odin had defeated them all.

He wondered, as he stood there, about his father, sworn to protect all those within their cosmos; the people who loved him, the ones who did not, and even those of Midgard, who had not known his name at all except from within the pages of books. He wondered about the choices his father had made, wondered what choices he would have made in his stead.

Would he have taken Loki in? Or would he have left the child to die in the cold?

And now? What choice now? Stand against his father and face banishment again? Or be the dutiful son, bound by honor?

At every turn they faced some new challenge and he found himself longing for the days of his youth when sovereignty had seemed like such a simple thing, his future assured, straight as an archer's arrow. Now his future was a chasm, a wide and yawning labyrinthine maze of choices with lives hanging in the balance. Darcy's life, to be sure, but his brother's as well, and worse, possibly all of Asgard, if not the Nine. All resting on him, or so it felt.

Indeed, his mother's words hung heavy in the air, a smoke that made his head hurt as he tried to work it all out.

Thor paced again, feet leaden on the marble floor as his muscled body tensed with every passing minute.

 _Enemies within, and enemies without_ , he thought as he paced. _What happens in war does not end when war does._  

He wondered how long they would all be paying the price.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who may be wondering or interested, I am working on updates for Selfish Prayers and for one of my Twilight fics that's posted over on FFnet. I never posted the Twilight fic here because I wasn't sure if anyone here is in that fandom but if you'd be interested let me know and I'll post it here too.


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